


The Dream of Atlas

by Melusine0811



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Wolf Rose Tyler, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Making Love, Making Out, Metacrisis Doctor (Doctor Who), OTP Feels, Pete's World (Doctor Who), Pete's World Torchwood, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soulmates, TARDIS Coral, Telepathic Bond, TenToo - Freeform, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Fluff, Tentoo is the Doctor, U.N.I.T., United Nations Intelligence Taskforce (Doctor Who), bondmates, pete's world U.N.I.T.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-01-02 15:23:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine0811/pseuds/Melusine0811
Summary: The Doctor and Rose have been left behind on Bad Wolf Bay, they begin to take the tentative steps towards a new life. But when women begin to go missing with similar circumstances, they find that their recovery time is cut short. This is a sometimes angsty, sometimes fluffy, sometimes smutty fic with lots of telepathic bonding and adventure.I am systematically going through all chapters I've already posted, an re-editing and cleaning them up before I continue the story.No idea how many chapters this will be but I have big plans for it.Playlist:https://open.spotify.com/playlist/37rqZmJM0vFjuWiMpafZmA?si=L7xbLVd2Rzu1WzFVQV2MRAhttps://www.tumblr.com/blog/melusine0811





	1. Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elialys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elialys/gifts).
**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracks 1 and 2:  
"Sun" ~ Sleeping at Last  
"Such a Simple Thing" ~ Ray Lamontagne

_"With golden string_   
_our universe was clothed in light._   
_pulling at the seams,_   
_our once barren world now brims with life,_   
_that we may fall in love_   
_every time we open up our eyes._   
_i guess space, and time,_   
_takes violent things, angry things_   
_and makes them kind."_

_~Sleeping at Last_

The breeze off the beach is incredibly cool and pleasant.

It brushes past his long eyelashes, ruffles his chestnut-coloured hair, and tickles past his angular cheeks. The rays from the lowering sun still have some warmth to them, even in the early evening glow. 

Earth, and nearly any version thereof, has always been incredibly beautiful. Maybe that’s why he’d spent so much time on this tiny speck over all his years of travelling the universe. 

With his eyes half-closed and his head resting on the back of his chair, he’s roused (loudly) from nearly falling asleep by the obnoxious squonk of a seagull. 

The bird had landed on a second chair nearby, and is now turning its head inquisitively, waiting patiently for the Doctor to comply with its request to hand over whatever food it thinks he might be hiding.

“I don’t have anything for you, you know. I don’t even _speak_ seagull. That’s not one of the tricks I can muster,” he says as he looks irritatedly at the creature. 

Affronted, the bird flies off.

The Doctor closes his eyes fully, now. Sitting on an Adirondack chair where they’d decided to spend the night, he had been almost beyond the veil of actual sleep. For him, this is an uncommon occurrence, but not entirely unheard of. 

Well, _that_ was new--- just dropping off with no warning. 

He’s over nine-hundred years old, and here he is, conking out like a toddler. It reminds him of when he actually _had _been much younger--- close to his first regeneration, when that particular body had finally begun to wear out. He’d sometimes fall asleep in the console room of the TARDIS only to have Ian wake him, commenting incredulously how the Doctor hadn’t even noticed that they’d just landed, and _“what kind of captain are you, anyway?”_

The problem now is that he isn’t sure whether he is over nine-hundred years old, or just a few hours old. It’s maybe a combination of both, and yet _neither,_ coupled with the paroxysmal manner in which this extraordinary body had been forged. 

What he is certain of, however, is that he’s the Doctor--- a Time Lord with a TARDIS, from the planet Gallifrey. 

...okay,_ part_ Time Lord, no TARDIS. Not a fully-grown one, at least. Still the Doctor, nonetheless. 

Who else was he supposed to be?

Drawn back to the present, he realises that he is a little chilly--- another rare occurrence. He can tell already that this new body doesn’t handle the cold as well, since its base temperature is higher, judging by the gooseflesh he’s trying to rub away on his arms.

Norway is definitely not the warmest location on Earth, but after all, it’s autumn. The rarity here though is that it isn’t raining sideways as it always tends to do along the Norwegian coast this time of year, as the sun had just dropped low enough that it was now peeking out below the clouds. 

He had grabbed a blanket that had been lying on a chair in the inn’s outdoor sitting area. He’s currently wrapped in it, but the chill keeps seeping in nonetheless. He had been watching the salmon fishing charters coming in and out of the small harbour nearby when he had nearly nodded off. 

The small town appropriately named Dårlig Ulv is situated around the harbour, and it's picturesquely dotted with colourful shops, restaurants, homes, and businesses. It paints a beautiful piece, and the Doctor is enjoying the tranquility of the evening immensely. 

However, the weight that is now on his solitary heart can’t be ignored.

He stands up and wraps the blanket better. He realises he wants to go back to sleep, perhaps for days. _Weeks_, even. But he hadn’t managed to sleep in that cold hotel room, alone.

Perhaps the problem had been the stark silence, permeating around him and into the void--- which is now in his head. So, he had come down the little path leading to the sitting area outside the hotel, perched atop a cliff, overlooking Bad Wolf Bay. 

Maybe the white noise coming from the crashing waves evoked the constant thrum of the TARDIS engines--- something that along with her soothing telepathic presence, is now missing from his head like a gaping hole chiseled between his ears. Something he had taken for granted, before.

He supposes sixty-odd years without her melodic voice in his head will likely prove very painful. However, what he had been given in recompense is well worth it, a billion times over--- even though the highlight of that trade off is currently hiding in a hotel room with her mother. Not wanting his mind to stray to _her_ at the moment, he cuts that tangent off quickly before his growing anxieties about her rejecting him reach their acute stage. 

King of deflection--- even in his own mind. He instead begins to take inventory of himself. This body is technically only a few hours old. 

Ah, yes. That must play a role in why he’s tired. He had just regenerated. As in most of his regenerations, he hadn’t had the opportunity to find a mirror, but he at least knows this time what he looks like.

_“Slim and a little bit foxy.”_

Yep. 

This time is very different in the fact that everything physically _feels _the same, besides the whole only-one-heart business. Same mole on his back, same teeth, same sticky-uppy hair, even. 

But _blimey_, this is utter exhaustion. Regeneration or not, his part-human body is apparently going to have to spend a much more considerable amount of time sleeping.

The thing he still can’t manage to wrap his head around is that he is _here_, in the same universe a Rose Tyler. Yep, there she is, sneaking up on him anyway, just as she always had.

Every single day since he met her.

Rose, who had brought him back to life, in many more ways than one. Rose, who had stitched him back together, shown him _himself_, and forgiven him time and again for all his stupid inadequacies. Rose, who had loved him--- and _proven_ it over and over again with her fierce loyalty, even when he had forbidden himself from acting on his own poignant feelings.

Rose, who was the embodiment of light itself. An allegory, almost. An anomaly. She had once become the sun--- in _his_ universe and otherwise.

_“I am the Bad Wolf…”_

A golden goddess on a pedestal he’s not sure he can ever win, now. He had decided that he certainly didn’t _deserve_ to, long ago.

She had been a stark contrast to his darkness, her light _infectious_. It had felt like a disease to him, at first, after so many centuries of incomprehensible torture. The culture shock had utterly annihilated his senses. Changing him, soaking into the recesses of his hard, shrivelled soul, and balancing him out. 

She had brought colour to his life when he himself was disintegrating--- _liquifying_ into the scenery around him. And he had felt himself tumbling head over feet, so incredibly early on. 

He was in love with her before he could even approximate it.

She had nearly glowed in that street, less than twelve hours ago. As he ran, he had felt as if he was floating towards her. In that moment, she was all he had wanted, in the entire _multiverse--- _sod his stupid rules.

But then, of course, there was a Dalek. There was _*always* _a Dalek. 

When the TARDIS had slipped back into the vortex, off this beach just a few hours ago, Rose had frozen. Staring at the equilateral impression in the sand where it had been, Her gaze had followed the trail of Converse-shaped footprints leading up to it. That trail had taken everything she wanted with it. 

Like a string, leading to a kite that had been swept away, just out of her reach.

He had stood there with her, dutifully taking her hand and caressing it with his thumb, waiting. Waiting for her to turn and punch him. Waiting for her to tell him to piss off. Waiting for her to tell him that he wasn’t the Doctor.

But he hadn’t. That wasn’t Rose.

She had instead turned and looked at him for what had seemed like ages, even though the tears continued to flow. His single, pathetic heart had broken as she had placed her hand on his cheek. He’d closed his eyes and leaned into the contact, as though his idolatry could seep through his skin.

Finally, she had spoken.

_“I...I need time.” _

More tears had welled up and threatened to spill down her cheeks. 

_“I know. Ok? I know. You’ve managed to leave me again and stay at the same time. I just need…”_

She had squeezed her eyes closed, dropping his hand and balling up her fists.

_“I’m sorry.”_

He had opened up his mouth to respond that she had absolutely nothing to be sorry about, and that it was _he_ who should have been begging for forgiveness, but she had turned away too quickly.

She had then started up the sandy incline to a path that wound up the hill, between a crevice where one cliff stopped and another started. 

He had followed. 

Of course he followed. He would follow her anywhere now, just as she once had for him. If she _wanted_, anyway. These words seemed to hinge on absolutely everything now--- his entire existence in this universe and the state of his single heart.

He honestly had no idea what _she_ wanted, a fact positively _dripping_ with irony, however. The fact that she was truly all he had, here in this universe was unfortunately irrelevant.

As though on cue, Jackie had then plowed into him and squeezed him so hard he’d squeaked. Inadvertently sticking Rose back in the same universe as her had cemented a lifetime of Jackie hugs, and big, wet kisses. He cringed, thinking about it.

“I love you, you big, stupid alien!” she’d proclaimed. 

She’d then yanked him down to whisper in his ear, “She knows, Doctor. She just needs a little time...maybe some food and a kip. You know how she gets when she’s hungry or tired, and now she is probably both. She’s been awake for goodness knows how long. You let me work on her.” 

Then she’d patted his bum, to which he squeaked again, jumping away.

“Come on, love,” she’d said, starting towards the little road that led up to the small resort after Rose, dragging the Doctor with her by his arm.

But once they had walked the half mile or so and reached the quaint little seaside inn, Jackie had requested two rooms. Rose had handed one key card to him, then walked off, dragging her mother behind her. 

He had stared after her numbly until she disappeared into a stairwell. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he had ambled slowly down the hallway, into the same stairwell and up to the third floor, as indicated on his card. He assumed both rooms were close to one another, but there was no way to tell for sure aside from straining his ears each time he’d passed a room.

When the glimmer of hope that she’d come back out had passed and reality had set in, he had finally entered his own room.

It was a very nice space, by nearly anyone’s standards. The large sliding glass door opened to a balcony overlooking the entire bay. The view was absolutely breathtaking, offering sweeping views of the ocean and beach. 

He had then stepped outside and leaned on the railing. The Time Lord in him told him not for the first time that this entire beach, the bay, and the tiny tourist town surrounding it were just…._off. _In particular, it had told him that this place somehow existed in _this_ universe alone. 

And he was pretty sure that the name _Dårlig Ulv Stranden_ spoke for itself.

He went back inside and walked around. The room itself was quite nice- the large king-sized, four-poster bed was close to another window, and like most of the other furniture in the room it was made from a dark wood. The bed was made up with a plush white duvet, four fluffy pillows, and a few burgundy throw pillows. 

A small sofa and coffee table were along the wall between the bed and the sliding glass door, and a TV was on the opposite side of the room, mounted on the wall. Along the wall near the sofa, there was a real wood-burning fireplace, and on the other side of the fireplace there were two overstuffed armchairs next to yet another window that overlooked the ocean. 

The large ensuite opened near the door, with a room containing a toilet off to the left, a huge double sink and vanity straight ahead, and a large walk-in shower to the right. But the focal point of the entire bathroom was the huge jetted tub itself, right next to the large shower. It made him remember his own tub in the TARDIS, this of course making his heart clench at the thought. 

He tried not to dwell on it and had then wandered back into the main room, sitting on the bed. 

He’d tried lying down--- and had spent exactly thirty-eight seconds staring at the ceiling before he couldn’t stand the stillness anymore. He hopped up and went back down to the lobby and outside.

_________

Now here he finds himself. 

Out on his chair, alone. And human…..ish....or something. 

He isn’t sure what part of the “ish” is Time Lord and what part is human, but if he can wager a guess, his body is just human enough to stop the regenerative ability, and his brain still fully Time Lord. 

He's able to judge by the intact Time Sense and the fact that a fully human body could never hold a Time Lord brain--- his awareness of what is probably already poor Donna's fate the prime example. A lump in his throat the size of Mondas starts to form, so he banishes thoughts of his best friend for now.

He figures he won’t know exactly what his percentages are until he manages to get himself to a lab, whenever that will be... if ever. From the feel of it though, his whole consciousness is still Time Lord. Same knowledge, same memories of nearly everything he's ever done, and same telepathic tendencies, even. 

Memories of past companions, friends, laughter, loss, and of Gallifrey. And of course along with that comes the memory of how it all ended. The lump in his throat disappears, and nausea threatens to boil up, now.

He sighs heavily. 

He notes that he also seems to still have his ability for telepathy, since his cavernous mind seems to be seeking…….anyone. Someone. Any voice at all, now that there's no more TARDIS to keep him company. 

He doesn't even realize his mind has been grasping in the dark until now when he's actually thinking about it, which is probably why his head has been throbbing since he woke up naked on the TARDIS floor. 

Maybe he’s hungry. He doesn’t know much, anymore, but fortunately he does know he carries snacks. He loosens his blanket and starts searching through his bigger-on-the-inside pockets and pulls out a banana. 

He eats his banana while rummaging a little more, pulling out another psychic paper, a spoon (you never know when you’ll need one,) and the bits and bobs he had stolen from one of the storage rooms in the TARDIS that he thought he might find useful. 

He feels around some more, and his fingers happen upon the chunk of TARDIS the other had tossed him. It doesn’t look like much to most accounts, now that he's really examining it--- just an unassuming piece of coral that could have washed up on any beach. 

He doesn’t feel any telepathic indicators emanating from it, even if he attempts to reach out to it. He carefully puts it back in his pocket, feeling defeated, and laying his head back in the chair.

He sighs and lays his head back against the chair, and is asleep within minutes, listening to the waves, imagining that the sound is hurtling him through the Time Vortex.

  
  



	2. Venus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracks 3 and 4:  
"Hold you in my arms" ~Ray Lamontagne  
"Venus" ~Sleeping at Last

_"the night sky once ruled my imagination._   
_now i turn the dials with careful calculation._   
_after a while, i thought i’d never find you._   
_i convinced myself that i would never find you,_   
_when suddenly i saw you._

_at first i thought you were a constellation._   
_i made a map of your stars, then i had a revelation:_   
_you’re as beautiful as endless,_   
_you’re the universe i’m helpless in._   
_an astronomer at my best_   
_when i throw away the measurements._

_like a telescope,_   
_i will pull you so close_   
_’til no space lies in between._

_and suddenly i see you._   
_suddenly i see you._

_i was a billion little pieces_   
_’til you pulled me into focus._   
_astronomy in reverse,_   
_it was me who was discovered"_

_~Sleeping at Last_

_______________________________________________________

Only seven minutes and forty-three seconds later, the Doctor wakes again to a shuffling sound. He opens his eyes a crack to see the silhouette of Rose Tyler, arms wrapped securely around her body. The sun is behind her, and once again she looks to be made of light. Not far from true sabaism, he speculates not for the first time today how she manages to produce this effect time and again, her hair a celestial halo, and he stands in order to see her properly.

The colour has returned to her face, and the circles under her eyes have even faded a bit. However, fresh tears are on her cheeks, and she looks small and vulnerable. She is unequivocally the most beautiful, hypnotic thing he has ever seen in his life. He quickly divests himself of his blanket, letting it drop to the ground.

“Rose? Rose, what is it?” he asks. At his question, she lets out a small sob.

“You were _gone!_ I went to find you, I knocked and you didn’t answer, even when I called to you through the door. I was afraid you had died or something, new body an’ all. I remember how sick you were the last time. I felt awful about leaving you on your own. Then I thought maybe this was all too much for you, and you left."

She leaves out the “me” in her last statement, but at this point it's not necessary. 

Rose's body dissolves in sobs again, and the Doctor's insides liquify.

“Come here."

He pulls her in, wrapping his arms tightly around her, just like he used to. She collapses against his chest and lets out a sigh, finally melding her arms around his waist. He can't stop thinking about how good she smells- how he wants to bottle whatever it is that is just _Rose_. He remembers poignantly that he used to go into her room in the TARDIS anytime he began to forget, just to stand inside her closet, breathing in the scent that still lingered on her clothes.

“No, Rose. I didn’t leave. I’m not leaving you again….. ever. Not unless you tell me to,” he whispers into her hair.

He panics slightly at the thought, as though having mentioned it might plant the idea into her head, and she'll realize that she could potentially be free of the burden of him if she so chooses. He holds her closer and rocks her slowly, breathing in her scent. He doesn’t want to let her go. To ever, ever let _ this _ go. He nearly melts from pure cathartic euphoria at the feel of her pressed up flush against him, even though he's beginning to feel the wetness of her tears through the arm of his jacket. His heart begins to swell like a balloon and he doesn't know how to stop it, and he's even more unsure that he even wants to.

He pulls her back so that he can look into her eyes.

“Do you understand, Rose? I won't leave, unless it is something that _ you _ want. This….all of this--” he motions at the distance between them “--it is, was, and should continue to be _your _ choice.”

Rose, for her part, can see the exact same expression on his face now as she had seen the other Doctor make.

_Does it need saying?_

As though he can bore through to her soul with his assertion and his acknowledgement that _she herself_ had created this causality--- this _nexus._

Rose pulls back, and the Doctor slowly and tentatively raises his hands to her face, as though he'll scare her away. Placing each thumb in turn gently over her eyelids, he wipes away her tears. He holds her face in his hands, reverently, and kisses her forehead. He then takes both her hands in his. She weaves her fingers between his, just like she always has.

She takes a deep breath and speaks, finally.

“Mum kicked me out. But before that she made me have a nap, a few hours I think.”

“Three hours and fifty-eight minutes,” he rattles off without a second thought. 

“Okay. I see the Time Sense is still there. _ Yippee _,” she rolls her eyes, smiling slightly at her attempt at humour.

He smiles back at her tenderly. She notices his eyes are shining more than usual. He takes her by one hand and leads her over to a swing facing the bay, just big enough for two. She still attempts to hug her arms around herself from the chill, so he picks up his huge blanket off the ground, and adjusts it so that it will wrap not only around his own shoulders, but around hers as well if they're sitting side by side. He sits down, opening one arm up so that she can fit in with him. He hugs her close, desperately needing to have as much contact with her body as he is possibly allowed.

“Where’s the blanket from?” 

“Nicked it off one of the chairs inside the lobby. It’s supposed to be for the beach, I think. So, why'd your mum kick you out?”

“She made me come find you. And she didn’t really kick me out. She _ strongly suggested, _” Rose giggles softly, a smirk sneaking into the corner of her mouth.

“What, your mum _ strongly suggesting _ anything? Nah.” He laughs then, loud and bright.

Rose can’t stop herself from smiling fully now, and something yanks inside her stomach at hearing it now that they're alone together and not threatened by impending doom--something more substantial than butterflies.

Something she has’t felt in nearly _five years._

Rose continues, “Anyway, she yelled at me to come check on you to see if you were ok, but I know she wanted us to talk. I came back to the room after I knocked on your door and got no answer. I told her you probably left because you didn’t want to be around me, seein’ as I kinda just left you. She forced me to come find you, to look where I’d think you’d probably be. I figured then that maybe your room was too quiet for you.”

“Rose Tyler, it’s like you know me or something.” He smiles again. “What else did she say to motivate you to come down?”

He reaches over to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her jaw.

Rose looks at him for several moments. Identical.

She notices his new hairstyle, even more unruly than before with the wild spikes and all.

She turns her head and sighs, looking out over the sea. A mild, sunny evening like this for October in Norway is definitely out of the ordinary. She realizes she has never taken the opportunity to appreciate how beautiful it is here, even though she and her mum had stayed here the last time. The last time, however, had been very different.

“She said I was being stupid. That you were selfless. Or the other you was. Or both, I dunno. I get a headache thinking about it. That both of you were _YOU_, and that if she could understand all that weird alien stuff, then I could too.”

Rose looks straight at the Doctor then, as she continues, “She said I was wasting time. Time that we no longer have, ironically. I suppose she feels our story better than nearly anyone, what with losing my dad then gaining him back, in a way. And he is my dad, Pete. He really is. Just as much as my dad in the other universe was.”

Rose’s eyes begin brimming over with moisture. “She said you love me. That both of you do, and that’s why you both did what you did.”

His voice is just above a whisper. “And what do you think, Rose?” 

Rose sighs, leaning forward out of his embrace and looking out at the ocean once more. The Doctor puts his hand on her back, stroking back and forth and refusing to break contact if he can help it.

“I think I’m confused, Doctor.” He feels his heart clench painfully.

She looks back at him, and he thinks she must notice how he swallows thickly at hearing her call him by his chosen name because affirms, “And I _ do _ know that you’re the Doctor, by the way. I was just being daft, 'cause I was knackered. But honestly, only you would be capable of splitting yourself in half and stuffing one of you into a part human body.”

She smiles again lightly, her eyes going soft, “I also know that you sacrificed me for what you believed to be my own happiness. You left me with my family, and with yourself, but you still left. Again. And that’s what I can’t understand. You say you will never leave me again. But you did. And it was just…. _ easy _ for you to do it. If you are really you, or the other you, or whatever….you left me behind without saying goodbye. How was it so easy to just walk off and hop back into your TARDIS?”

The Doctor, for his part, continues to make soothing strokes up and down Rose’s back, then he repositions himself suddenly, turning towards her with one leg curled inward on the seat of the swing and partially under the other leg, so that he's facing her. Rose follows suit and faces him. They each automatically intertwine their hands with the other.

Rose notices that the breeze is fluttering through his hair, making it more fluffy than styled. She suddenly wants to put her hands in it. The evening sunlight illuminates his dark eyes so that they're now a beautiful chestnut, warmed from a source deep within. Raging flames of ochre shoot upwards in silken fibers, branching out in varying other earthen shades. Really, properly looking at them again after all this time, her memories of the different strands and hues of brown they contain flood back all at once. She realizes that what she really wants to do is kiss him again. 

The emotion in his expression when he speaks again makes her stop breathing. He squeezes her hands.

“Rose, _please_ listen to me. I have not left you. I am here. And yes, I am me. I am the Doctor, and that is the only thing I will ever, ever know how to be. Yes, the other me needed to get the TARDIS back to the other universe. But since he _is_ me, I can tell you that when it comes to Rose Tyler, walking off that beach and leaving you behind today was the second hardest thing he’s ever had to do.”

“So... what’s the first?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

His eyes begin to brim over, the rims red, and he looks down at their joined hands. He starts stroking the backs of hers with his thumbs.

“The number one hardest thing, Rose, was stopping myself from ripping apart the void, purposely collapsing two universes just to have another fraction of a second, so that I could tell you the end of that sentence. So that you would _know_ before we both died.” 

He looks up at her, then, and his jaw clenches before he is able to open his mouth again.

“Rose, he couldn’t say the words because it would have been too easy to take you back into his TARDIS and steal you away from your family, keeping you all for himself for the rest of your life. He would have kept you forever, and fallen for you in a way that would eventually prove disastrous. It would have been catastrophic, for himself and for the universe, because he would have eventually lost you and gone mad with grief. Ask me again sometime exactly why this is. I can’t…... tell you all of it right now, for a number of reasons.”

She doesn’t press him any further because his honesty is so raw that she's speechless for what seems like an eternity. She just holds his hands, caressing his fingers as he clutches hers in return.

Rose’s heart begins to ache from the intensity. She squeezes his hands tighter, and a tear starts to drip down her right cheek and she swallows. The Doctor reaches up, wiping it away automatically, letting his thumb linger as though each one is his responsibility.

“Then why did he say _ ‘does it need saying? _’” 

The Doctor doesn’t hesitate.

“But really, Rose? Does it really need saying? As if my entire body didn’t scream it every single second we were together. As if the fact that I wanted you to be happy and live a full life with the people you love---and with _ MYSELF _ no less--- doesn’t scream ‘Hello! Look at me, I’m the Doctor and I’m in love with Rose Tyler. Allons-y!” 

She giggles as she sniffles, heat rising up and meeting her cheeks, feeling a bit delirious that he's actually _verbalising it_.

“Seriously, you should know. It was so obvious. Everyone knew. Your parents both know. Poor Mickey knew. That Dalek you touched knew. The _ Devil _knew, for crying out loud. Everyone knew. Donna definitely knew and she was nearly as desperate to find you for me as I was. Poor Martha felt it acutely. And....” 

“You’re really in love with me?”

“Yes, Rose Tyler. Yes. Blimey, it feels good to allow myself to say it when I actually have the time.”

He lets go of her hands, and reaches up, framing her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. 

“You know I’m not good at this, saying what I’m actually feeling. I spent five years loathing this part of myself because I never told you. Then when I finally was ready to, because of my own stupidity, I ran out of time."

He reaches his right hand up and combs his fingers through her hair, starting at the top of her head. It feels like silk, and everything he's ever imagined. He puts his face so close to hers now that she can feel his breath. 

"So.... this is me, opening up. Rose Tyler, I am completely...unabashedly... unashamedly... and unreservedly in love with you. Always have been. I...... I had this whole speech I was going to say but I can’t remember it right now..." His voice trails off as he traces his thumb over her lower lip. 

The desperation in this nearly makes Rose self-combust, as his last few words are barely above a whisper. The intensity of it meets Rose deep in her belly as it moves even lower.

They unite simultaneously, crashing their lips together once again, and the Doctor’s hands go directly into her hair, cradling her head. Her breath catches in her throat. Her arms wind tightly around his back, stroking up and down, pulling him as close as their awkward positioning will allow on the seat of the swing. Rose lets out a soft groan, and the Doctor thinks he could nearly die and regenerate right there, if he had the ability.

He opens his mouth slightly, memorizing her lips. She tastes like vanilla lip gloss.

Rose’s tongue begins to slide softly against his lower lip as she tastes his mouth, and he opens slightly for her. Tiny, barely audible cries escape her lips. He groans himself now, inhaling sharply, and he brings his arms down, winding them around her back, moving his leg out from under him, putting it behind her bum, so that she is between his legs. Time and again they separate and reconnect. He pulls her flush against him, and she puts her hands into his hair, stroking the downy fuzz of it, and scratching her nails lightly through his sideburns as he methodically chronicles the _heat_ of her mouth and the staccato of her breath. The kiss becomes even more frenzied as the exquisite slide-drag of their lips leads to both at a loss for breath.

She pulls away, panting, looking into his eyes, both of them trembling and ready to shatter. He is the one to pull her in again, almost roughly, opening his mouth further with each kiss.

It all creates an absolution. They were. They are, and always will be- just them. It is a promise- the raw passion in it a declaration. A cataclysm.

Suddenly he can see the golden fractals of her timeline joined with his with more clarity than he has been able to see them before. With a crack like lightning, in front of his eyes he can see her arching off of him, crying out as he feels her shatter around him. He can see laughter, fights, their fair share of adventure, doors and even carpets. Those carpets he once ran from--- he's counting on them now. Because he _can_.

He can see endless possibilities- but the only constant is_ them, _together. He knows in that moment that while the road ahead will by no measure by easy, Rose Tyler will be at his side. It is as if his severely procrastinated declaration of the scope of his love was the final key that has just now- _finally_ -clicked into place.

He also quickly realizes where this will end up if they don’t stop. Not that he has a problem with that, but he's a bit afraid she might climb into his lap, here outside in broad daylight. The thing he's most afraid of, however, is that he'll be the one to encourage her to. Fortunately for both of them, and for the people walking between the inn and the car park area, (who are getting a bit of a show,) the Doctor’s stomach betrays him by letting out a loud rumble.

Rose pulls back and gasps.

“Oh! I'm so sorry. You’re hungry! I’m such a moron. Of course you are! There can't be anything in your stomach. C’mon, let’s go find a pub or something. I’m hungry too, now that I think about it. Mum said earlier that she wanted to get room service, so it’ll be just the two of us.” 

She leaps up before either of them can allow things to heat even further, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

The Doctor hesitates, “Erm….I still don’t have any money.”

“Still a tightwad and still the Doctor. Come on, then.”

“But hey, at least I’m a cheap date.” He waggles his eyebrows and her stomach flips.

She smacks his arm, laughing, then gives him that tongue-touched grin he's missed with every fibre of his being. He nearly snogs her again, but he realises that there will be plenty of time for that after their basic biological needs are taken care of. They interlace their fingers and start down the hill towards town.


	3. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tracks 5 and 6:  
"Do I have to say the words"  
~Bryan Adams  
"Far Away"  
~Nickelback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been re-edited as of September 4, 2020. Enjoy!!

Having walked down the hill the short distance into town, the Doctor and Rose remark that the streets of Dårlig Ulv should really be made of cobblestones, complete with horse-drawn carriages moving about and Charles Dickens running around…..or maybe more appropriately, Henrik Ibsen. 

The entire village reeks of charm, and the shops remind Rose of Diagon Alley, with buildings of every colour, shape, and size. There are curious little shops selling everything from beach supplies to souvenirs to fishing gear, a small pharmacy, clothing shops, a bakery, restaurants and pubs, and an adorable toy shop. 

She begins to feel like a bit of an anachronism, although she’s aware that it shouldn’t be this foreign of a concept to her, granted it’s been awhile.

She notices delightedly that there’s even a little bookshop that looks like one could spend an entire day inside, finding plenty of places to curl up and read on poufy cushions with a hot chocolate in one’s hand. 

Rose remembers numbly that the last time she was here, she hadn’t even noticed all of this livelihood- a massive metaphor for her entire life since she landed in this universe. 

Walking hand-in-hand with the Doctor, Rose begins to feel like they are once again strolling through some far-off alien marketplace, crowds babbling in a cacophony of languages she can’t understand, and her fingers intertwined with those of the man who is proficient in most of them--- TARDIS translation or not. 

A delighted smile settles on her face, one that has been _scarce_ as of late.

The pub they find is exceedingly cosy, and they grab a table next to the window. Rose decides on Fårikål, a hearty stew made with lamb and cabbage. She thinks that it might drive the chill from her bones-- (even though her face seems to have taken on a marked flush in the last hour or so.) The Doctor decides on kjøttkaker, a dish consisting of meatballs and vegetables. 

He looks as though someone has handed him a massive plate of bananas foster when he squeals delightedly, his voice taking on that high-pitched purring _lilt_ indicating that the object of his rapture is the most astonishing thing he’s ever seen.

“Look, Rose! There are little meatballs in the picture! We’re in Scandinavia, of course I have to have meatballs! When in Rome, right? _Molto bene_! Oh wait, erm..._Veldig bra_!” 

His manic energy and excitement over such a seemingly insignificant detail are contagious, and Rose smiles nostalgically, shaking her head. She suddenly becomes cognisant of how _calm_ she feels, aside from her inner conflict that there are two Doctors and the fully Time Lord one is now gone.

Although she has easily grasped the idea that the Doctor is simultaneously here with her and absent, the entire thing just…._hurts._

Looking across the table at this Doctor as he reads the menu to himself, she silently says a prayer to nobody in particular that Donna will stay with the other one for a long while--- at least several years. 

_Saint Donna._

Rose decides then and there that if they ever get that TARDIS coral to grow, she’ll have Donna Noble officially canonised along with Joan of Arc and Mother Teresa, but purely for her ability to handle an ornery Time Lord. She’s still in a bit of a stupor when the server arrives to take their order.

After the Doctor orders enthusiastically for both of them in fluent Norwegian, the server heads back to the kitchen. He reaches for Rose’s hand across the table, holding it tightly in his, caressing circles on the back of her hand. 

He can’t stop looking at her. 

Here she was, wanting to still be in the same room with him, wanting to be near him. Wanting….._him,_ apparently, judging by the explosive fervor of that last kiss that very easily could have ended with him inviting her back to his room and making his feelings for her even more indisputable. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling completely gobsmacked that she seems to be convinced of his identity- and even more, ready to defend it. But that was Rose. She intrinsically and effortlessly understood how to relate to any situation they were ever in, how to help those involved, and how to help _him_ above all others. 

Selfless to a fault. 

He swallows, and his throat tightens. Apparently this proclivity to react to strong emotional reactions, including this very _human _response that’s welling up in his chest was going to be yet another adjustment to being part of the human race.

Rose’s physical beauty, while nearly blinding as it had always been, had also been _chasmally _overshadowed by her inner beauty. Defender of the voiceless, and giver of sanctuary for vulnerable hearts--- most of all for his own two. He reflects grudgingly that somehow here she sat, still loving him for all his anger, his vengeance, and his desecrated soul--- as though she even _deserved_ to have to worry about him.

He snaps back to reality when she suddenly squeezes his hand.

“So...are you ok?” 

Rose’s honey-brown eyes meet his as his pupils refocus on her face instead of the surface of the table, oblivious to the fact that he had been staring blankly at it.

His hearts swell yet again because _of course_ she’s worried about how he’s dealing with all of this--- something that is, as he’s always known, her default setting. His own personal champion. _Rose Tyler, Defender of the Universe and of the Doctor: Time Lord, Part-Human Biological Metacrisis, and every variation thereof. _He decides that she needs to have an office with a nameplate on the front that reads that inscription.

“Doctor…”

“Sorry...just...Yeah, Rose...I’m ok.” He rubs his eyes each one in turn with his free hand. The exhaustion is really starting to catch up--- yet another human thing to reconcile.

Rose presses further, unsatisfied by his half-hearted answer.

“So...what is this body, exactly? I got the gist of it but I missed quite a lot. I know the whole process was pretty dodgy. I know you’re part human but...what does it all mean?”

He inhales deeply, ready to throw himself into one of his impassioned explanations.”Wellll...it’s a hybrid of sorts, above all. A biological metacrisis. I regenerated sideways instead of forwards--”

“But-- sorry, could you maybe start from the beginning? Like, with details. Lots of details. With...you know, everything going on, I didn’t get time to really understand how you actually exist. How you’re actually here, with me.”

“Well, the last thing I remember before it happened, I saw you standing on the other end of that street. Donna noticed you first, whilst I was asking her what it was that you had said in that pocket universe. Somehow you had managed to paste “Bad Wolf” all over the place as a warning to me, and as a message that the universe was ending.”

“Hang on, I did _what_?”

“All I can figure is that it happened when you became Bad Wolf and came to save me on the Game Station. The words have definitely followed us, Rose. You scattered them all over Time and Space. Right down to the existence of the very town and very pub we now sit in. You were more powerful than I ever realised.” 

Rose is bewildered, understandably. The Doctor reaches across the table and takes her other hand, reassuring. Reaffirming. He clutches her hands and leans forward towards her as far as he can across the table.

“I came here, after.” He looks at their joined hands, squeezing hers and looks back up into her eyes. 

“I came here after I burned up that star. This place doesn’t exist, in our universe. This beach doesn’t exist at all. There is no Dårlig Ulv Stranden.”

He sees her throat tighten and he knows her well enough to recognise that _concern_ in her face, as though she’s done something wrong. He continues, reassuring her.

“There’s no town of Dårlig Ulv because there’s no pretty little beach to build it around. No harbor. No shops and no economy. It’s all rock at home. There isn’t any sand. Have you noticed how the cliffs just seem to ….drop off? It’s like…..it was put here. By you. And my instinct tells me that this is the _only_ place it exists. And my instincts are nearly always correct, Time Lord consciousness and all. You..._Bad Wolf_....put this place here. You saw the timelines and made a place for us.”

Rose, for her part, had experienced the same sense about this town, but only having the town name to go on. However. She hadn’t realised the depth of it.

“I…….I know. I think I’ve always known,” she says, barely above a whisper, staring down at the table. Of course her first instinct is to feel ashamed, scared that she’s hurt someone. 

“Rose, look at me. You didn’t hurt anyone. You _saved_ everyone.”

She nods, looking down again.

Trying to lighten the mood, the Doctor’s voice takes a matter-of-fact tone. “You know, I wrote a song about you. It’s called ‘Werewolves of London.’”

“Ha. Nice try genius, but that was Warren Zevon.” She rolls her eyes, giggling.

“My mum loved him. Went to several of his concerts. She was really upset when he died. So when we got here, we found out he’s not dead in this universe, but Michael Jackson is. Completely mad.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, but old MJ’s days are numbered back home too. He dies next year. Shame too, he gave me one of his gloves!”

“Oh no! Really? Everyone’s going to be so sad!” 

She scoffs, and adds “And he did _not_.”

“Rose Tyler, there really is no getting past you.”

“I just know you too well and know how you apparently _still_ think you’re so impressive.”

“We’ve been over this, I _AM_ so impressive.”

_“Right.”_

The Doctor shakes his head, making that goofy clicking sound with his mouth, and they have a good laugh--- one of those ones where Rose rewards his mock brilliance with that tongue-touched smile that makes him want to jump her bones inside this pub. 

He needs to distract himself, before he gets them arrested for public indecency. He’s gotten them out of prison cells plenty of times before, but he’s not really sure he’ll be able to do it without a sonic screwdriver. 

Instead of said jumping-of-Rose-Tyler’s-bones, however, he continues his clarification concerning his existence.

“Anyway, Donna and I were trying to wrap our heads around the whole stars-going-out thing, and I asked her what you had said to her there, in that pocket universe. Then she said, ‘Why don’t you ask her yourself?’ I turned and there you were. Thought it was a mistake. I started running towards you.” 

He smiles big now.

Rose smiles along with him, remembering, and distracted from her concern over what she may or may not have done as Bad Wolf.

“And then…...of course, I got shot by a Dalek. You cradled my head. I knew I was going to regenerate, so I just wanted to be with you, before I changed into someone else again. I didn’t want it to end, because this was the version of me you...well...you know.”

He blushes and starts scratching the back of his neck before he elaborates. Rose grins.

“‘Course I couldn’t prolong it...or I would have died. I saw something containing my DNA…..my hand, suspended in that jar…and I thought it might work. I healed myself, then threw off the regeneration energy into the jar. And _boom_. Sideways regeneration instead of forwards.”

Rose cocks her head, quizzically, “But...the hand. Did it have to be that? Why wouldn’t you have saved a part of you and kept it with you all the time, like some hair in a phial or something? That has DNA too. Then you could’ve stayed the same whenever you wanted.”

“Doesn’t work like that. Has to have enough cells in it for it to siphon off all that energy. The cells also have to still be living and viable, and there aren’t enough living cells in hair or even fingernails. After the Sycorax, Jack put my hand which held all those living cells into that container full of solution, and the solution it was suspended in preserved them and kept them alive. My regeneration still counts, but this time I was able to heal myself completely without changing.”

What he doesn’t tell her--- _won’t_ tell her--- is that this regeneration, as aborted as it was, still counts in the other Doctor’s register. 

_And he only has one left._

The next incarnation, the Ood had informed him, was fast approaching. With the Time Lords gone, unless the other Doctor is able to pull a new set of regenerations out of his Gallifreyan arse, his next will be his last--- and going full-on crispy Skeletor like the Master isn’t exactly his style. He swallows thickly, trying not to alert her of his thoughts.

Rose is the one to ask his attention again. 

“Please. Tell me. What about the TARDIS? Are you sure you’re ok? You’ve been taken from her….and from the stars. At least for awhile.” 

She is afraid of this most of all. She knows, of course, that he shared an incredibly strong bond with his ship--- she was his constant companion. Which in itself wasn’t merely an attachment: it was a tangible telepathic connection that spanned centuries. 

The Doctor leans back and reaches into his pocket, pulling out the TARDIS chunk and hands it to Rose. She turns it over in her hands, looking closely at it. She can see the same organic, hexagonal pattern on the coral that was on the walls of the TARDIS. As she examines it, inexplicably, Rose feels an inscrutable connection with it. She shakes her head, trying to readjust her brain. 

The feeling is still there.

It’s as if it _*wants*_ her to hold it. As if it doesn’t want her to ever let it go. It’s a presence, in her mind which feels as though it’s in close proximity to her psyche--- as though they are two bubbles, one desperate to merge, its imperceptibly thin membrane clinging to the other.

Rose starts thinking the lack of sleep has rendered her a complete nutter, so she distracts herself from it, probing further. 

“So, do you think you’ll be able to grow it?”

“We. Do I think _we’ll_ be able to grow it. We’re going to do this together. And if it grows, it’s ours. And yes. I think that yes, barring any problems I think it will grow, in time. It will still take several years though, even though what Donna said is probably true.”

Rose grins again, and his stomach does a somersault.

Their food comes then, and it is absolutely wonderful. They are warmed in body and in spirit, here together in the aftermath of the cataclysm. 

As they eat, they glance up at each other every few moments in disbelief, just to check that yes, they’re actually _here_, and yes, they’re in each other’s company.

After their meal, they walk back up the hill to the inn in companionable silence. Neither wants to say goodnight, of course. They notice the sun is about to set and the sky is _gorgeous_, so Rose walks back to the sitting area, finds the discarded blanket from earlier, and grabs the Doctor’s hand, pulling him along.

“C’mon. If this is our first proper date we’re going to see a show after dinner.”

“But….the roasting of the Earth was our first date!”

“Oh, you know what I mean. C’mon, Doctor.”

After they reach the bottom of the sandy path, through the crevice between cliffs, Rose is pleased to see that the tide is very low, so a good portion of the sand is dry. She plops down directly into the soft sand, pulling the Doctor down with her. They draw one another close, wrapping the blanket around themselves and huddling together. 

“I think it’s time I stop seeing this beach in my nightmares and embrace it for what it is: the place that brought us together twice now.” She looks back at him and the emotion on his face says enough.

The Doctor’s eyes are shining. He places his hand on Rose’s chin, pulling her mouth to his. This kiss is slow and reverent, the soft sound of mouths detaching then re-colliding, with tender touches and impassioned sighs lead to them scooting closer together, wrapping the blanket tighter.   
  
Lips open, and tongues slide methodically over teeth and across the other. It makes up for its unhurried pace in the intensity that has tremors pulling their breath out in tiny gasps between kisses. Barriers slip further into nothingness as the veil is pulled back, and they’re clinging to one another as though each is the only thing anchoring them to the slow sway of the turning of the Earth.

Before things can escalate irreparably, Rose pulls away and puts her head on his shoulder. Gorgeous pinks and hues of violet and blue illuminate the sky as the sea inexorably swallows the sun, a poignant and hypnotic catharsis from the devastation they’ve just survived.

“Look! The green flash!!” 

Rose is almost as excited as he is. She laughs.

“Now _that_…..that is proper impressive. It’s like you _planned_ that. I always thought it was just something people said you could wish on, like pots of gold at the end of the rainbow or tossing coins in fountains or something.”

“Yep! Welllll.... It’s rare but it can happen on a really clear day like today. The green flash is an optical phenomenon that can be seen shortly after sunset or before sunrise. It happens when the sun is almost entirely below the horizon, with the tiniest edge of the sun – the upper edge – still visible. For a second or two, that upper rim of the sun will appear green in colour.” 

He’s grinning like a maniac, and Rose is intensely pleased to see him back in geek mode once again.

For a long time, neither says anything, just taking in one another’s presence, holding onto one another like this dream could be over in a flash similar to the previously discussed green one. 

The sky grows darker and the colours begin to dissipate from the sky. Finally, the stars begin to appear, one by one just as they had been going out before they went and changed everything. The milky way is clearly visible, and the sky looks like someone had taken white paint and flung tiny splatters on a massive expanse of black canvas.

Rose is the one to break the silence with the one thing on her mind that is making her heart feel heavy. 

“Doctor…...what about……_him?_”

He knows of course that she’s worried the other Doctor is ok--- that she has done since they watched him disappear in the TARDIS. 

“I’ve always been ok. I’ve always trudged on, and the other me will too. I have no doubt, actually. He will always love you. But...he’s about to be renewed. And I know this is hard to hear.”

He brings his face close, looking directly into her eyes, dark orbs in the twilight.

“Donna and I went to the Ood planet and they foretold that my song was ending-- that I would regenerate very soon. He’s going to regenerate soon, Rose. I’d give him six months tops, linear time. He’s going to want a fresh start. _Need_ a fresh start, really. And it’s likely to be a big one… like hitting reset on a machine with a giant red button.”

He sighs heavily and pulls away, looking up at the sky.

“I was done...I couldn’t carry it all anymore. And I knew it would be a big one---I could feel it. I could feel it because there is a part of me that wanted it to be. The new incarnation will be very different from me because that’s how he will still want it---too much heartache in the last few centuries. Too much pain and loss.”

He looks back at her, eyes watery.

“But he will always carry you with him, seared onto his hearts.”

“But...he’s got Donna. She’ll take care of him…..right?”

He pulls away from Rose a little, drawing her arms off of him and back down to her sides, and turning to face her in the dark, this time. He takes her hands in his, stroking across her fingers with his thumbs. 

“Rose, I don’t want to keep this from you. I’ve been guilty for too long of not telling people things that they should know. And you deserve to know, and I am really trying to do better with this body, being more open with you.”

“Doctor, what? What’s wrong?”

“He’s--- ” 

He puts his head down.

“He’s taking Donna home, forever. He has to leave her or she’ll die.” 

His words are sure and full of naked honesty, as though he is laying himself open. As though talking about his other self and the battle he will face will make her affections for _this _him vanish like smoke. The battle the other will face against _himself_\-- to keep going.

On instinct, Rose retreats into herself.

_“What?”_

He continues, before she fully panics.

“Rose, a human brain can’t hold a Time Lord consciousness without imploding. He will have to take it out of her, removing every last trace of our time together, or Donna will die. She can’t ever know that we traveled together, that we were best friends or that she was like my sister. One of my soulmates, of sorts. And above all, she _can’t _know that she saved the universe.”

The Doctor pulls back, sniffs, and his eyes are leaking. He scrubs his hands over his face, looking back up at the sky.

“Oh God, he’s going to be alone. He’s going to regenerate alone. _Oh God_. And I’m not there. I’m not there to hold his hand.” 

Rose leaps up, divesting herself of the blanket and starts to pace. Her breathing becomes laboured and she’s darting back and forth. The Doctor stands up with her, tries to approach her.

“What is going to happen to him??? He’s going to be all alone! I snogged you and he had to watch, and then he loses Donna. I can’t deal with this. I can’t. I just _can’t_. I can’t do this.”

She’s turns and she’s ready to leave, to run away, because of course her personal guilt reaches an all-time high, but he grabs her hand and holds it tight.

The previous slow sway of the turn of the Earth turns into a torrent of cosmogyral, swirling emotions for Rose, and tunnel vision begins to take over as she collapses onto her knees.

“Rose. _Rose!_ Please listen. _Please_ listen to me. _HE. IS. GOING. TO. BE. OK._” He drags out his last sentence for emphasis, as though his words alone can validate his very existence, and he sinks to his knees with her, placing his hands on her arms.

“Yes, watching you kiss his exact replica was hard, but it’s what he wanted for you. Because I would have done the same thing had it been reversed. Same person, remember? This is us--- you and me, Rose Tyler and the Doctor---spending our lives together. This is the only way that could’ve happened. He will be OK. I promise.”

“No, Doctor. You listen to me.” 

Her eyes are narrowed now with a flashing, icy rage that he’s never seen.

“You _DIED.__YOU WERE DEAD._ And I had to look upon your dead body, knowing that if I didn’t find the real you, you’d stay that way. ALL of it--- the entire universe, and your _LIFE_, falling to me and whether I succeeded. You died in that bubble universe because there was nobody to tell you to stop.”

She begins sobbing, breaths being torn from her chest like they’re being forced out like a bellows.

“There was nobody to be with you. Donna’s timeline was altered so that she never met you, and you drowned under the Thames. And the world fell apart. You _gave up_, Doctor. _YOU. HAD. NO ONE_. What could _possibly_ have made you do that?”

His answer, he knows, will break her, as timeline-oriented as his view still is. But this time, it’s not his Time Lord consciousness that is aware of the raw determinism. It’s his ability to see into Rose Tyler’s soul.

“Losing you.”

Rose opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. Finally, she finds her voice, and it’s seething.

“And _here_ we are! On this godforsaken beach, _again!_ And he’s out there alone. I can’t handle knowing he’s out there, and there’s nobody there for him.” 

She’s keening in great heaves, and she collapses against his chest.

He doesn’t have to see her face very well to know that her face looks like her soul has been ripped out of her body. 

“Yes. I’m not going to lie to you. He will be alone, but not for long. He will be ok, I promise. This life- you and me- were his----_our_\---_MY_ gift to you, if you still want it. My tribute to everything you have been to me. He knows that you are with me-- that in a way, he is _STILL_ running hand-in-hand with you, in the only way that he possibly ever could.”

He wraps his arms around her.

“You brought colour to my life, Rose----you are the girl who taught me more than anyone else ever has. And he will be ok, especially after he regenerates. And he will _not_ give up again, I promise. After I was ready to let myself die and Donna stopped me, later I made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t let it escalate like that again. He will go on to live. To love, because _YOU_ taught me to.” 

He pulls Rose closer, bending down to her. She cradles his head against her shoulder, stroking her fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head, and nuzzling his ear with her lips. Every hair on his body stands up on end, as though every touch from her sends him into sensory overload.

“But…..Doctor, what about _you?” _How are you ok but Donna isn’t?” She pulls back again. “Oh my God are you going to die???”

“No, I’m not.”

He looks into her face in the moonlight.

“I’m in this for the long haul. I’m fine, really. I have a fully Time Lord brain, not a human brain with a Time Lord stuffed inside. My neurons aren’t trying to make new connections with ones that aren’t there. I still have a Time Lord consciousness. Plus, my brain is physically larger than a human’s, so there’s room for all this to happen.”

“Ha, I knew you had a big head.” She smiles through her tears.

He returns the sentiment, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He pulls her back in, rocking her back and forth, slowly. A gentle dance in the rising moonlight, soothing them. Granting solace.

He whispers, reverently. “I _love_ you. So much, Rose.”

Rose is properly weeping again, but not from sadness. She sniffles loudly, takes a deep breath and returns his sentiment. 

“You daft alien. I love you, too. More than I could ever say with words.”

He holds her still, looking into her eyes with an intensity she’s never seen. “That’s the other reason I never told you, Rose. Because the English language doesn’t cut it. No verbal language does. ‘I love you’ even sounds... fake to me. I know you mean it when you say it to me, but to properly show you I can’t do it with words.”

Her voice drops an octave, as she looks down at his mouth.

“Just try.”

Rose pulls him in again almost roughly. His arms wind around her back, pulling her in tightly, achingly and completely flush against his body. His tongue sweeps across her lips and she opens for him immediately. She threads her fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Desire shoots through his body so fast it almost makes his head spin. He groans audibly over the sound of the crashing waves. This makes Rose deepen the kiss even further, running her tongue over his teeth, sucking on his lower lip, and drawing it into her mouth. 

She notices that she is throbbing now, low in her belly, nearly desperate for release even though they are fully clothed, and outside in the freezing cold. She moans softly, and the Doctor can’t hear the waves anymore. Above them, stars move overhead, planets hurtle around suns, comets flash through existence. Galaxies spin, but the Doctor momentarily can’t feel any of them. 

Time _stops._

There is only Rose. 

There is only the Doctor.

The feel of her tongue, her lips, and her small frame pulled tightly against his makes him want to lay her down on that blanket and re-christen this beach as the place where they truly became one. He figures they’d probably freeze though, regardless of the heat sizzling between them. As though thinking about the cold makes him self-aware, he shivers, but it doesn’t have anything to do with Rose’s kiss.

Rose pulls away, panting. “Yeah, m’ freezing too. Let’s go up.”

He stands, helping her up, and picks up the blanket and shakes it off. He links his fingers with hers and they start up the sandy path.

When they get back up to the top of the incline between the crevices, they help brush all the sand off of each other. 

They’re stalling, intentionally, of course. 

They stand outside the entrance to the inn, and the Doctor says quickly, “D’you...erm…”

Rose responds, a little too quickly, “Do I what?” 

The Doctor, not wanting to overstep any boundaries and offend her, reponds, “Erm...nothing. Nothing, Rose.”

“Okay.” She smiles, but the smile is far from reaching her eyes.

“Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

She kisses him softly, turns quickly, and enters the inn.

In retrospect, the Doctor really isn’t sure how he’s going to deal with that silent room, and how he’s supposed to go sleep there. Why couldn’t he just have said it? It would have been so simple. He’s practically kicking himself.

_“Rose, will you stay with me tonight?” _

It wasn’t that hard. Erm…..wrong word. Difficult. Yes, that’s better. It wasn’t that difficult. But he hadn’t wanted her to think that sex was all he thought about. All he had wanted was to be with her, regardless of what happened tonight. To hold her as they slept. 

He ambles back towards the sitting area, looking back down at the sea. Exactly 38 seconds later, the door reopens and a blond ball is hurtling towards him. He instinctively catches her, and she jumps into his arms, her legs winding around his waist. She kisses him with a fervor that he’d not felt yet.

“I missed you so much! _SO MUCH_. I don’t ever want to be without you. Not even tonight.”

She continues to kiss him, scattering kisses over his lips, across his face, and over the bridge of his nose. But he pulls away slightly, setting her down, holding her face in his hands.

“Stay with me.”

“Yes, my Doctor. I’ll never leave you.” 

More tears, of course.

“No, I know. Yes. And I will never leave you. But that’s not what I meant.” He chuckles lightly and continues, “Stay with me. Please. Stay in my room with me. ”

“Oh, God I thought you’d never ask.”

They re-enter the warmth of the inn, hand in hand.


	4. Feels Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
Tracks 7&8:  
"Feels Like Home"  
Chantal Kreviazuk  
"Too Early for the Sun"  
Kenny Loggins
> 
> Yes, I know I said the fun bits would begin this chapter, but some important things needed to be said and done, and before I knew it I was 4,500 words in. *HIDES*  
Plus, what happens in the next chapter is very important, and I didn't want to rush it or condense it just to squeeze it onto the end of this one. Don't hate me.

Entering the Doctor’s room, and rubbing her hands together to warm them, Rose is properly impressed. “Blimey, this room is bigger than Mum’s!” she remarks, walking around and taking in the space. 

“And how on Earth did you end up getting a fireplace??”

“Lucky I guess. Weeeell…. I’m pretty sure the receptionist fancies me.” He waggles his eyebrows at her.

Rose scoffs, smacking his arm.

“Too bad for her, I’m spoken for anyway,” he says, grinning, doing that tongue click - wink - head wobble thing again.

Rose’s stomach does that yanking thing once more, as though a hook has pulled her by the navel, and she returns his smile. She still can’t quite believe it--- that they are _apparently_ a proper couple. Although to Rose, the word “couple” seems cliché and doesn’t quite cut it.

She draws him close, putting her arms around his neck, and brushing her lips across the scratchy feel of his cheek.

“Yep,” he says, “she probably thinks I’m sly and a little bit _ foxy _,” doing his best ‘I’m possessed by a bitchy trampoline’ impression.

She collapses on his chest into a fit of giggles then. She realises she hasn’t cried so much _ and _ laughed so much in a single day in all her life, and her stomach actually kind of hurts from the emotional rollercoaster it’s been put through.

She really wants to see the rest of the room though, so she toes off her shoes and drapes her jacket over the back of the chair at the small table nearby. She loves how everything seems to be made out of wood, from the long caramel-swirled planks that make up the walls to the huge support beams in the high ceiling to the ceiling itself. It smells rustic and cosy and the perfect place for them to get reacquainted and enjoy autumn in Scandinavia. 

She particularly loves the fireplace, which is the focal point of the entire room. Instead of being flush with the wall, it pops out about 3 feet---and the curved gray stone flue stretches all the way up to the ceiling. The Doctor notices that she is looking at it, so he immediately busies himself with adding wood to it so that he can build a fire and warm up the room.

Rose walks around, and glances at the spacious bed. Automatically, her face begins blushing, so she turns her head so that he doesn’t notice. 

“Oh wow, you have a balcony too! This is _ gorgeous. _” She walks over to the sliding glass door, cupping her hands around her eyes up against the pane so that she can see out. She’s noticed that the moon is higher now, so she can just make out the water below.

The Doctor comes up behind her, having apparently abandoned his fire-building as though keeping his hands off of her for more than a few seconds is torture. He encircles her waist from behind, pulling her close, and he kisses the side of her face tenderly. “Well you know, now it’s your balcony too---seeing as you’re squatting and everything.”

Rose turns spins around, giving him one of those tongue-touched smiles again, and is just about to kiss him fully on the lips, but the Doctor isn’t finished.

He brings his lips to her ear, and breathes out in a low voice that makes Rose’s knees wobble, “Kinda like…. we’re roommates again. But this time the quarters are much smaller. I think I like that, _ Rose Tyler.” _He draws out her name the way she loves, and Rose is beginning to tingle all over, but suddenly she spots several large bags on the sofa near the bed.

“Erm….Doctor? You didn’t go shopping earlier, did you?”

“Rose, you know I love a little shop here and there, but right at this moment and _ weeelllll _ …. really….... anytime today, I would rather stand directly downwind from a Slitheen than go----- _ oh? _”

They both walk over to the sofa to examine the large shopping bags placed there. Rose turns on the lamp nearby so that they can see properly. 

At the exact second Rose says _ “Mum,” _ the Doctor says _ “Jackie.” _

Rose smiles and fondly shakes her head. Honestly, any excuse for her mother to go shopping. An entire lifetime of near-constant poverty had made her a bit of a shopaholic once she found herself with nearly unlimited funds. Pete and Jackie now enjoy the luxury of a personal shopper but Jackie still revels in doing it on her own--- especially when it comes to buying things for Rose and Tony, and now, apparently, the Doctor also. Rose sits down on the sofa and sees men’s clothes inside one of the bags, so she hands it off to the Doctor and starts going through the other larger one she assumes is hers.

She finds that her mum has purchased a couple outfits for her--- some nice tops, two beautiful hand-knit jumpers with snowflake patterns on them, jeans, socks, one lacy bra, and a package of silky knickers with lacy edges. Silently cursing yet blessing her mother at the same time, she stashes the unmentionables, and at the bottom of the bag she finds a fresh set of pyjamas--a light blue camisole with matching striped bottoms. She pulls them out and decides to put them on immediately since she has been in the same outfit for long enough—- at least 3 or 4 dimension jumps if not more.

The Doctor, meanwhile, had sat on the sofa next to Rose and opened his bag to find some clothes that Jackie thought would fit him- an assortment of jeans, socks, a belt, and a package of boxer briefs that he stashes immediately. The idea of Jackie Tyler buying him underpants is enough to make him sweat profusely, although he is indeed thankful. He also finds two beautiful fairisle jumpers that look expensive and possibly handmade here in Norway. He decides that these are his new favourites, and this incarnation just might become an occasionally jumper-clad incarnation yet, just like his 9th one. These clothes aren’t his suits but he figures he will buy some later when he has the chance to visit a proper men’s clothier and tailor--- something he’s sure he won’t find in a tiny Norwegian tourist village.

Rose then opens a third bag to find toiletries, and among the dozen or so items she finds everything from deodorant, to shampoo, a hairbrush and comb, hair elastics for Rose, hair gel for the Doctor (because heaven forbid he not be able to fuss over his hair), lotion, a razor for each of them plus shaving gel, and two toothbrushes and toothpaste among a few other things.

The Doctor is truly impressed. “Blimey, she thought of everything, didn’t she?”

“She used to shop for Granddad before he died. She had to always think of what he needed, to the point where she’d anticipate it. She is a pretty good shopper.”

Rose reaches into the bag again, and pulls out an envelope. There is a letter from Jackie. Rose reads out loud for the Doctor:

_ Dear Rose and Doctor Meta-whatsis, _(Rose giggles)

_I hope you find everything you need. Honestly, the shop people are very helpful once you whip out a Vitex company credit card with the last name ‘Tyler’ on it-- so if you need anything else, just ask them. I mentioned you might be stopping by to the ones who spoke English. Otherwise, Doctor- make Rose use the company card to buy some stuff online on her phone and have it shipped to you express. _

_( _“AH! Smartphones! This universe is about 10 years ahead of the other, right?” Rose nods and shushes him, reading further.)

_ Doctor- I hope this stuff will fit your scrawny arse. Honestly, you didn’t think of adding a few pounds when you decided to go and make a copy of yourself? I wasn’t sure about the pants situation though cause honestly I’d rather not know, so I decided on a compromise of boxer briefs. _

(The Doctor turns a violent shade of red as Rose reads this, and she herself starts giggling hysterically. Once she’s calm, she continues,)

_ When you get back to London, Pete’s tailor will fit you for a bunch of suits. _

_ I myself have a very early flight out tomorrow morning, so if you two start going at it really loud and banging on the walls, I’m going to kill you both. _

(More embarrassment.)

_ Fortunately all this wood is pretty soundproof, so I can deal with feeling like a beaver for one night I suppose. _

_ This brings me to the main point. I’m to inform you that neither of you are on that flight- you are both *officially* on holiday as of now. Pete says that if Rose shows up at work anytime within the next two weeks, she’s sacked. In two days’ time, a Vitex company zeppelin will be arriving (one of the posh ones with a fridge, a minibar, and a big screen TV- you have me to thank for that one). You two are going to take it wherever you like, just like when you were traveling. I know that chunk thing is going to take some time to grow, so here’s your chance to relive the glory days until that happens. And Pete also says that the zep has GPS, so we can see where you are. If you show up anywhere near London, Rose is also sacked. Doctor, if you get my daughter abducted by aliens I’ll strangle you and I know for a fact that you can’t regenerate. Trouble follows you two, and I figure that if they smelled you the last time you pulled off this new body stunt, they can do it again, regardless of your experience and Rose’s Torchwood training. Christmas is coming soon and I like my Christmas trees just fine the way they are- still stashed in the workshop and minus the ninja abilities! _

_ Pete’s staff are working as I write this to pack up the zep with everything you’ll need. Doctor, he says that he’ll need you to call him and let him know what name you want on your passport and birth certificate, since “Doctor” is an official name only for a head case. _

_ Enjoy your holiday, you both deserve it. _

_ Love, _

_ Mum _

_ PS- We’re so glad you’re both here. _

_ PPS- And for god’s sake quit snogging each other’s faces off in broad daylight! You have a hotel room! _

Rose smiles and looks up at the Doctor immediately, curious about how he will answer. “So, what do you think you want to put on your ID?” 

The Doctor shrugs. “I’ve only ever been ‘Doctor.’ I can’t just change my name after being called something for nearly a millennium.”

“Yes I know that, and I honestly wouldn’t be willing to call you anything else unless you really wanted me to, but you need an official name for practicality’s sake while we’re still stuck in this time. It’s not like we can swan off into the TARDIS and park in the vortex to avoid the pressures of daily life on Earth. Oh!! But wait though, what about psychic paper? Did you nick an extra one?”

The Doctor chuckles at this. “Rose really, I can’t nick anything from _ myself. _ I keep one in all my suits. So yes, I have one, but you’re right that I will need ID eventually if I want to make my life a bit easier. What do you think should be my name?”

Rose is not coming up with anything. “Doctor, I dunno. That’s….. not really for me to decide. It’s your identity. It will be your assigned name for the rest of your life, and people who don’t really know you well will recognise you by it.”

“Well, I’ve gone by John Smith as my alias since I started out. That would be easy because I’m already used to responding to it. But I would still want people to call me Doctor.”

“And I only want to call you Doctor, honestly. You couldn’t be anything else to me.” She reaches out and strokes his cheek. “But…. I have a little story for you. You know…. when I was trying to find you, I must’ve jumped into, I dunno, a hundred different dimensions. I met lots of different people in those worlds. I’ll tell you all about all that later, but every now and then the people I met would ask me who I was, asked for my name. So…... I would tell them I was called Rose Smith.” She blushes, looks down, and smiles. “I dunno, I guess it made me feel closer to you. Like maybe I’d find you faster if I identified myself with you.”

The Doctor instantly moves from where he’s sitting about two feet away, closing the gap between them and covers her mouth with his, his arms winding around her and pulling her close, almost too tightly. The kiss becomes passionate within seconds—- record time this go around. He draws her lower lip into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, and her tongue finds his. After several languid kisses, he pulls away, looks into her eyes, and says breathily “Rose. I am _ honoured_. And.... maybe someday we’ll find use of that name again.”

She strokes her hand over his cheek, then touches his lips with her fingertips. She slowly traces each finger over them, and he kisses her thumb when it is the last to smooth over his lower lip. He can see that her eyes are shining as moisture begins to gather at the rims of her eyelids. He feels her heart pounding and wonders if she can feel his. There is no doubt, now, where this is headed. Rose suddenly pushes all the boxes and bags on the floor and is _ juuuust _ about to climb into his lap, when the Doctor stops her.

“Hold that thought,” he says firmly and looking directly into her eyes, so that she knows he intends to pick up immediately where they left off, kissing her once more and leaping up from his seat. 

He is kicking himself now that he didn’t start a fire earlier, and in a flurry, he is occupied with getting a blaze going to get the room toasty warm. He is thankful that there is a propane line to get the fire going quickly. He hurriedly crumples a bit of paper underneath the wood pile he made earlier, and lights it with a match, then turns the knob ever so slightly. The result is instantaneous- a merry fire is burning immediately, and he can already feel the heat radiating.

Rose decides then that this is the perfect opportunity to go change and get out of her grubby clothes, so she grabs her bag and the toiletry bag and runs into the bathroom, yelling out to the Doctor, “Be right back!”

When she enters the bathroom, she exclaims to no one in particular, _ “Oh my god, I’m in heaven!” _

Rose, coming from a single-parent family in a council estate, still feels uncomfortable being spoiled in any way. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to stay in the Tyler mansion for long after she arrived here, partly because to Rose, all that opulence felt incredibly intimidating. It was as though all that fancy furniture was judging her, saying _ “You know what you really are, don’t you?” _

The décor here is much more her style- simple but still elegant, similar to her flat. She admires the beautiful marble that makes up the floor and the sink, and makes a mental note to enjoy that tub later on, _ and hopefully with company, _ she adds to herself, a small smile sneaking onto her lips.

She sets down the shopping bag on the floor, and starts opening up packages and ripping off tags. The first order of business is to tame her hair, so she uses the new brush to pull her hair up into a simple bun. Then she changes out of her dirty clothes, which contain grime from who knew how many dimensions. She even divests herself of her knickers and bra, then pulls a clean pair of knickers from the package of new ones. She pulls the form-fitting camisole on, skipping over the bra entirely because she won’t need it—-_ for more than one reason. _ She pulls on the soft pyjama pants and admires herself in the mirror. The camisole’s built in support highlights her cleavage in a way that makes her anticipate seeing the Doctor’s face when she comes back out. She gets rid of all the packaging, and decides to toss her dirty clothes in a cupboard, when she is delighted to that there is a washing machine in it. She makes a mental note to do some washing in a couple days before they board the zeppelin, and she places the bag full of new clothes on top of it.

When she comes back out she isn’t at all surprised to see that the Doctor has completely changed clothes too, because he always seemed to do so at warp speed on the TARDIS. He’s wearing a soft navy blue t-shirt and matching plaid pyjama bottoms, and he’s seated on a fluffy rug in front of the fire, cross-legged. He turns as he hears her padding barefoot back into the living area, and his mouth is quite obviously hanging open. She quickly sits down next to him, facing the fire. Rose puts her hands out to let it warm them, when she notices that the Doctor can’t tear his eyes from her. She looks at him and smiles warmly. 

“Hi,” she whispers.

Rather than reply, he scoots closer and behind her, so that her back is against his chest, and she is sitting between his legs. She leans back against him and he draws his arms around her and rests his chin on her shoulder. 

“So…” he begins, “I mean, it’s not a prison on some far-off planet or a dingy room orbiting a black hole, but it’s not such a bad place to be stuck for the next couple of days.” He draws her closer, nuzzling his chin against her neck. He starts placing small kisses up and down, which quickly turn into something else. Soon the tip of his tongue is touching her skin with each kiss. He strokes his lips gently up and down the length of her neck, and he notices that she’s beginning to breathe more heavily.

She slowly leans and turns her head back towards him, looking straight into his eyes. He notices that her eyes are saturated and threatening to spill over once again, and then they finally they do, her nostrils flaring, and she manages to choke out in a whisper, “Stuck with you, s’not so bad.”

She spins around a quarter turn on her bottom and pulls his arm to indicate she wants him to sit facing her. They’re both sitting cross-legged, their knees touching, and then Rose leans back and draws him in so that her legs wind around his waist, and his legs are wrapped behind her bum. Once they are flush against one another, Rose places her hands on either side of his face, and looks into his eyes. Tears really are flowing down her cheeks when she whispers, barely audibly:

_ “Doctor, make love to me.” _

The Doctor pulls her in and kisses her, but stops before it gets heated. He hesitates before he continues, “Rose, there is nothing I want or need _ more _ at this moment. However, I need to tell you something first, and make sure you're ok with it.”

Rose is silently hoping that he doesn’t need to tell her about some weird alien anatomy problem, but she nods nonetheless.

The Doctor continues and holds her close while he speaks, but makes sure that he’s looking at her for the majority of what he’s about to tell her. “You know that Time Lords were telepathic. I myself am primarily a touch telepath....”

“Yes,” says Rose, interrupting abruptly. “The answer is yes.”

“But... you don’t know what I was going to ask you.”

“Yes, I do. I want a telepathic connection with you. I know you can form them and I’ve wanted one with you since I learned you were telepathic. I want _ everything _ with you, Doctor. There is _nothing_ I want more."

“No, Rose. _ Please. _ I need you to hear this. You have to understand and consent to everything or else....or else I can’t do it. It’s against Gallifreyan law and it’s not something I could bring myself to do if you didn’t realise the scope of it."

He clears his throat, and draws her close again. The light from the fire is flickering in his eyes, and she can’t help but think that he’s the most unspeakably beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

He begins, “So, before the Time War, The Time Lords developed a bit of a God complex...it’s complicated, and partly why we wound up in the Time War to begin with. Among other things, the Time Lords long ago deemed romantic relationships....pointless. Children were loomed, basically made by these machines that mucked about with genetic material and not conceived the normal way. Eventually sexual procreation was no longer necessary and was discouraged, so romantic relationships died out. They were seen as dirty, lowly. Anything having to do with the mind, however, was important. We always used telepathy as part of our culture, it was ingrained in us. So the few Time Lords that did fall in love and have true relationships kept the old traditions of the telepathic bond. The connection between two romantic partners who bonded telepathically was much more complicated than a normal relationship. You still with me?”

“Yeah, keep going, jus' wanna hold you closer.” Rose’s head is tucked under the Doctor’s chin as her head rests against his shoulder.

“Rose, the pair would be bonded for life, becoming what we would call a Bondmate. The bond was unbreakable, stronger than even marriage because it would make the two souls inseparable, almost becoming one. The more deeply a couple felt for each other, the harder it would become to stave off a connection forming while the couple were engaged in…..close contact with one another.” 

He continues, “And that, Rose, _ THAT --- _is why we couldn’t have been more back when we were traveling. A real, physical relationship with you would have included that telepathic bond. I can’t make love to you without beginning to initiate one, because of how strongly I feel about you. I've lost my entire species and their telepathic signals. But loss of Rose Tyler as my Bondmate? Not possible. It would have broken me telepathic bond or not, but it would have been my undoing to lose you. The universe would have been in grave danger because I no longer would have been able to care for it. You saw what happened after we were separated, and this was before I allowed myself to pursue _ us_. Magnify it. Rose, please look at me now.”

She pulls back, and she again is wiping away tears.

“Hey,” he says. “Don’t cry. Please.” He tenderly brushes her tears away with his thumbs and continues, “Rose, look at me. You are the _love of my life_. I have had attractions and strong connections, and I’ve ‘danced’ before, as we’ve discussed. But this is different. I have never been in love like this before, not in 900 years of travels. There is absolutely no way I could have proceeded and not bonded with you. You _ imprinted _ on me when you became Bad Wolf. I took the Time Vortex out of you, but with it I took part of you into me. Into my soul, my very being. _ YOU _created this body. Both the definite article and this version of me. I was already in love with you before I regenerated, but while I was regenerating all I wanted was to please you- for you to love me, even though another part of me didn’t want you to. So I became more handsome and I even talk like you.”

“I did, Doctor. I already loved you before you changed. Long before that, actually. But after you changed I fell harder.” 

He can’t help but kiss her again, but pulls away quickly to finish what he needs to say.

She presses her nose and forehead up against his and closes her eyes, feeling the rumbling of his voice through his body. Just being allowed this, finally. The Oncoming Storm has finally opened himself, and now he is offering everything he has and everything he is--- as if he hasn't given enough.

“So, anyway, if you want _ this _ …. it will take time to fully form the bond. And it will take more time with you since you’re not naturally telepathic. At first it will just be feelings, emotions. We will be able to project to each other later on. But I can teach you how to eventually accept me into your mind, and I can teach you how to go into mine. Rose, the more we come together telepathically, the more we have any form of physical contact, it will heighten the more we…. _ you know _….the deeper it will become. And you can take all the time to think about it, if it's what you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

She pulls back, affronted, “Doctor, how could you even _ think _ that I might not want this with you? _ Of course _ I want this with you. I want _ everything _ with you. And even more, how could you even think that I’d need more than 5 seconds to make up my mind??”

“Rose, are you _ sure? _Because I can’t go back, after tonight. And it will become stronger, the deeper intertwined we become in each other’s minds. How are you sure this is something you want with me?"

Rose looks at him incredulously. “Are you _ serious?? _ How do _ YOU _ know this is something you want with _ ME _, Doctor? I can probably answer for you though. I know because we are already short on _TIME_, ironically. I know because I don’t want to waste a single day, a single minute. This is a gift, my Doctor. A gift from you, and a gift from me, in every way possible. _We_ created this. I want to be yours, in every sense of the word. I want to be your Bondmate, your best friend, your life partner. Your other half. And since this bond is something you want with me, and based off of what you said earlier, I can tell you without being afraid of how you’re going to react that I’m going to want an _actual_ wedding at some point too, so don't think you're getting out of it. I know it's trivial to you but it matters to me. So tell me, if I know that I want that, and always have, how do you think I feel about the possibility of something that’s even deeper?”

“But Rose, are you _ sure _ you don’t still need time to sort out your heart?”

“Doctor, let me ask you something. Would you have to sort out your heart with the version of me who you orbited a black hole with? Or the version of me you saved the world from gas mask zombies with and danced with during the Blitz? Or perhaps the version of me who came with you to this universe the first time and helped you fight off Cybermen? Or the version of me who you ran to in the street, less than a day ago? Or for posterity’s sake, the version of me you watched nearly fall into the Void and thought you lost forever?”

He’s the one breaking down now and swallowing thickly, “No, Rose. I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly my point. We’ve wasted enough time, Time Lord.”

He captures her mouth again, melding her body to his, sinking his hands into her hair. He knows that it is going to be an incredible night indeed.


	5. No Other Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so kind with your comments, here is something you've been waiting for ;)
> 
> Tracks 9 & 10-  
"No Other Love,"  
~Heart  
"Love Me Like You Do"  
~Ellie Goulding

_ No other love, darlin' I'm flyin'. _

_ No other love, darlin' I'm flyin'. _

_ And I can go, I can go anywhere. _

_ But no other love can take me there._

_No other love, darlin' I'm flyin'. _

_ No, no other love, darlin' I'm flyin'. _

_ And I can go, I can go anywhere. _

_ No other love can take me there. _

_Darlin' I'm flyin'. _

_ Darlin' I'm flyin'. _

The two of them are the only thing in existence, that is real, tangible. Here in this world and elsewhere, in the flickering firelight. Yet the Doctor isn’t sure that Rose is actually real, or where he ends and she begins. Interlocked on the floor, both sitting upright and pressed together, with her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, he finally pours his telepathic presence—- his soul, his love, his entire being—- out through his very skin and into hers. It overflows through his lips and his tongue, and bleeds through his hands tangled in her hair. He’s unable to accomplish it in small doses though, and Rose cries out as she experiences the onslaught. It all crashes over her like a tsunami, inundating her, and for a moment he is afraid it is too much, but he can’t help it—-it is too strong, he can’t stop. He’s been starved—-from the TARDIS, from his entire species, and most of all from _ HER_. He has needed this since the moment he met her, and maybe even before, as though he had waited 900 years to learn to breathe.

_ “Are…..you……..ok??” _ He asks, scarcely able to form a single, coherent thought.

_ “Don’t stop,” _ she chokes out.

He hauls her to him again, kissing her deeply, slowly, desperately. He strokes her tongue with his, drinking her in, pulling and grasping at her back with his hands like claws, splayed out and unable to bring her close enough to him—-tugging, kneading, gripping. As though he can fuse them together. Reaching up and combing his fingers through her long tresses, his hot breath glances off of her throat as he tugs her skin gently into his mouth. She pulls back away ever so slightly, trembling, open-mouthed, her gulps of air coming in short sighs against his mouth, her nose pressed up against the bridge of his, both of them panting and gasping. He tries to kiss her again but she denies him of it, holding him off and pressing her open mouth just barely against his, ghosting, and framing his face with her hands. The tip of her tongue slides over his top lip and then the bottom in succession. He needs to kiss her, he’s dehydrated, he’s dying and she is a source, but she still holds him back—-torturing him, their breath mingling. 

He is frantic for her. He reaches his tongue out blindly searching for hers, trying to pull her in. She pulls back, and he nearly whimpers. Finally, she gives him what he needs, pulling him in equally and with bruising ardor. Breathless kisses, frenzied passion—- cries of relief and of anguish. The Oncoming Storm rages on and the Bad Wolf is the only one who can calm his need. The fervor of all of it is palpable, and in just in these first seconds they both can’t approximate how they ever existed without this.

He can see now that she is more than capable of handling a telepathic connection, she has of course held the whole of the Vortex within her body. _ Of course _ she can handle it. He pours out his love for her in a cascade—- his adoration, constant yearning, his worship, his selfish denial, and his fantasies. He shows her his want, his all-consuming longing, and his aching need for her over the past seven years—-every day that he’s known her. He shows her every single day since he’s lost her as one gut-wrenching singularity—- _ exactly the way he sees Time. _The pit of despair he was left in washes over her and her tears flow freely down her face and mix with his own. He moves his mouth to her cheeks to taste her sorrow, and he shows her each time that her name was on his lips, and every time she saved him and renewed him, even though she had been torn from him. Each moment echoes crystal-clear inside her head and ricochets.

_ “Her name was Rose.” _

_ “Rose, her name was. Rose. And we were…together.” _

_ “Rose would know….right about now she’d say exactly the right thing.” _

_ “BIG mistake. Cause that name keeps me FIGHTING.” _

_ “She’s gone, Jack. She’s not just living in a parallel world, she’s trapped there. The walls have closed.” _

He shows the period when he became human in order to hide. He needs her to see that he showed Joan Redfern the illustrations he had done in his journal, without even knowing it was Rose, or who she was exactly. He shows her how she was there with him even though he didn’t know anything, didn’t know himself. He scarcely knew 900 years of Time and Space, his own planet, or his countless companions. Bits and pieces and images had littered the journal, full of fragmented thoughts disconnected from one another. But Rose shone through, once again, invading his dreams. He shows her each and every word.

_ A girl’s face in a screen. I know this face, I have seen it in my dreams before. _

_ I find myself wanting to draw a perfect Rose, over and over although I cannot find a Rose anywhere. _

_ The perfect Rose _

_ It’s a perfect rose. _

_ Perfect Rose _

_ Rose perfect Rose _

_ Perfect Rose _

_ In my dreams I keep asking a girl where to find one, and she is dressed in the most extraordinarily immodest way. _

_ She will not answer me, and she keeps walking away. _

_ I keep dreaming of a girl. Girl in my dreams _

_ I remember this girl I have drawn her although I know her well in my dreams. _

_ I know her well I know. _

_ I know her _

_ She is my s_____ _

Rose strokes his face, and finally sobs. “My Doctor, you can stop. _ You can stop now. _ You don’t have to be afraid anymore. It’s over. I told you I’d never leave you, and I still mean it. You can stop hurting.”

The Doctor cries out though his own tears, breathing heavily, rasping, “_NO, Rose! _ Please. You need to see. I need you to see each time I said it. How much I have _ always _ said it. How much I have _ screamed _ it.”

His chest is going to explode. He captures her lips again, cradling her head, and stroking her face with his other hand. His hands clutch at her as he sends more memories. 

_ “Now, Chief Inspector, there is no power on this EARTH that can stop me!!” _

** _“ _** _N__o! Because this is what I'm gonna do - I'm gonna rescue her. I'm gonna save Rose Tyler from the middle of the Dalek fleet. And then, I'm gonna save the Earth. And then, just to finish off, I'm gonna wipe every last stinking Dalek outta the sky! Rose? I’m coming to get you!” _

_ “You give her BACK to me!!" _

_ “I only take the best. I've got Rose.” _

_"Where is Rose?? WHERE IS SHE???"_

_ “I’ve seen fake gods and bad gods and demigods and would-be gods! And out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just ONE thing, I BELIEVE IN _ _ HER. _ _ ” _

  
  


He shows her every time he entered her room in the TARDIS just to be among her possessions, and then his despair when her scent started to fade from them. He shows her all the long days he spent hovering in space searching before finding that tiny gap. He shows her just after his first meeting with Donna how he headed to the original universe’s Bad Wolf Bay—-- which didn’t even exist. She sees images of him standing in this very place- waves crashing over rocks, and nothing but desolation as far as the eye can see. 

He shows her his acknowledgement that she is his survival, in every sense of the word. The yearning to possess her, to touch her, his hunger for her, body and soul. He then blindsides her with his physical desire, how he _ wants _ her, and she can feel it not only all through her mind and body, but also feels the physical evidence of his need as he pulls her into his lap and she begins to grind slowly against him. She throws her head back as she slowly rocks, and he concentrates his lips and tongue on her exposed neck and chest, and bringing his hand finally up to her breast, stroking and kneading.

Rose is officially done having layers separating them, so in one swift movement, they both lift the camisole over her head and drop it to the floor. The Doctor lets his eyes rove over her bare form for a moment, then he wastes no time in bringing his hands up to brush his thumbs over her hardened nipples. Everything is in slow motion, surreal, and he runs his tongue up in the hollow between her flesh, taking both breasts into his hands, squeezing, cupping, making circular motions, then releasing the pressure and letting his fingertips ghost over her skin. He then brings his lips to one, drawing as much of her into his mouth as he can—-nipping, sucking, licking, and tasting. He does the same to the other, and Rose thinks she could come apart just from this alone as she scratches her fingers through his hair and sideburns, her hips grinding, rutting involuntarily against the hardness she feels through his clothes. She cries out sharply as he thrusts up against her over and over. She separates from him and kneels, straddling him, and reaches her hand down to cup him through his pyjamas. He yelps loudly, and she smiles as he begins to grind against her hand, his eyes closing. He places his hand over hers, showing her how he needs to be touched, and Rose can feel his searing heat, even through his clothes.

In the middle of all of this, Rose is simultaneously in ecstasy and brought to tears because she can feel his soul actually enveloping hers- not really_ see _ , she doesn’t quite know how yet, but she can _ FEEL _ the undertones of it in tangible colours, almost taste it—- _ feel _it inside her head and her heart, penetrating her every cell. She recognises the warm gold presence of her own, and feels the deep burgundy glow of the Doctor’s pulsing around her, enveloping her. It is the colour of the sky just before twilight, of a far off galaxy and the deep crimson dust collecting around a supernova. She musters everything she has in her and is determined to be an active participant in this, as inexperienced as she is.

The Doctor, not expecting anything in return at this point from Rose mentally, is completely blindsided when he feels _ her. _ He _ sees _her in his mind. Not as a fully-formed person, but as a set of two gorgeous, closed eyelids made of golden light—- with long eyelashes identical to those of the woman who is currently on the brink of breaking in his arms. She is awakening.

Everything else has blinked out of existence. There is no sky, no stars. Only the ones that are scattered across the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. He kisses each one as he trails his tongue up her neck, over each breast, as he pulls her into his lap once again and ruts up into her, his hand massaging her, pinching, his mouth roving. The heat from the fire has spread across the entire room now, and Rose welcomes the warm skin that greets her, but it’s not enough.

Rose needs to feel his flesh equally against hers, so she grabs his shirt from the bottom and yanks it off in one fluid motion. Her hands splay over his chest over the soft hairs scattered there, and spreads kisses over him, stroking his bare back, raking at his skin. The Doctor momentarily stops her, sits her back on the floor, and leaps up to grab a pillow and an extra blanket from the bed. He spreads the blanket across the rug, puts the pillow down, and then he kneels to ease Rose’s head down onto it. He immediately hooks his fingers over her pyjama bottoms, and pulls them off, carrying her knickers with them. 

Her bare form is revealed for him for the first time, and he wants to weep at the sight. She is everything he has pictured in his dreams and more. Her creamy skin glows in the firelight and his eyes rake up over her smooth legs with dark, soft curls at their apogee, up the expanse of her stomach, over the swell of her breasts, and up to her face, framed with her golden hair. 

“If you’re going to attend the party, you’re going to have to follow the dress code, Doctor. It’s written clearly on the invitation,” she says, smiling gently.

He laughs, stands immediately and he takes his pyjamas and his pants off in one fell swoop, nearly falling over and tripping over his tangled clothes.

“Rose Tyler, you are, unequivocally, the most gorgeous bouncer I have ever seen. Then again, you're also not a Judoon or a huge, bald bloke named Steve. Neither of which I'd like to order me to take my clothes off.”

They both giggle.

He lays back down next to her, turned towards her on his side, laying his head on the pillow next to hers. He clears his throat, “Um... Rose. I know this is a bad time to bring this up, but do we need...any...erm..”

Rose chuckles lightly, “No, Doctor. We’re good. I’ve been on the pill since age 15 to regulate my cycle, cause otherwise it’s awful, it used to make me really sick. I stayed on it and it’s a pretty good thing. What do you think time travel and dimension hopping do to a girl’s body?”

"Not sure, but all I'm thinking about now is what I'd like to do to it." He waggles his eyebrows again.

He gives her a huge grin, bringing his mouth down to kiss her lips, and props his head up on his elbow. Rose threads her hands in his hair, but then does something he definitely doesn’t expect. She pulls his hand out from underneath his head, and he lets out a muffled yelp as his face collides with the pillow. Rose pushes him down onto it, pulling his wrist towards her and she sits up, showing him she wants _ him _ to lay flat on his back.

Rose brings herself down to lay fully on top of him, needing to feel his skin against hers. She kisses him deeply, then begins spreading kisses across his chest and his neck, letting her tongue taste the saltiness of his increasing and very human perspiration. He puts his hands into her hair, touches her face, stroking his fingertips over her cheeks, her closed eyelids, and her ears. Her lips are moving down, and her hands are ghosting over his oversensitive skin. His gooseflesh pricks up automatically, and she smooths it down with her touch just as she does to every one of his worries. She stops to kiss his stomach, ghosting her lips across his skin, running her tongue over his flesh, and she drags her fingertips through the trail of hair that descends down to where he wants to feel her the most now.

He squeezes his eyes shut and he wants to cry out when he feels her lips ghosting over the smooth skin of his length. She then takes him into her hand, stroking, rubbing the tender skin on the underside with her thumb and already a drop of moisture is beading out. He then does cry out then when she finally takes him into her mouth, tugging lightly. He steals a glance down to watch, and he is completely sure he has never seen anything as magnificent as this. Rose looks up to make eye contact and he's done for.

It’s all too much, his heart is pounding out of his chest, and he pushes his hands through her blond tresses and begins to thrust upwards. Grunting, making tiny, deep cries, he can’t bring himself to continue for long. What he really wants, _ NEEDS _, is something else entirely. 

His words come out in a guttural sob, “Rose, please. Stop, love. I need to be inside you.” 

She releases him, and for good measure runs the flat of her tongue up him, then walks her body back up and kisses his lips. He indicates to her that he wants her to prop herself up on her arms and knees, hovering above him. He wastes no time in descending his hand, stroking each breast again in turn as his it passes. Rose pushes herself up on her arms, and he turns his hand and splays it across her stomach. He can smell her pheromones now, the tang to her arousal, and his hand finally plunges down into her folds. They both intake air sharply; her at the feeling of being touched where she’s wanted him for more than 7 years, and him when he feels exactly how ready for him she is. He looks into her eyes and they are nearly black with desire, despite the firelight.

“_Ohh, _ Rose…”

He slides his digits over her centre and he is rewarded when she starts eliciting small cries for each slow circle he makes with his fingers. Drawing out her moisture and spreading it around, he then dips them down and circles her entrance, and he finally sinks his first two digits inside her tight heat.

“Doctor…. d'you feel what you do to me? What you’ve _ always _ done to me? How long I have waited for this? .....Nobody has _ ever _ made me like this. I can’t…….I can’t believe you’re here, and you’re touching me.”

“I’m _ here_, and I’m never leaving you, Rose.”

She grinds her hips against his hand, as his fingers move in out out of her. It gets to the point where he is barely moving his hand, but watching as she drives her hips, his fingers disappearing slowly inside her body. It is spectacular. But it is too overwhelming, and he swiftly reaches up, pulls, and before she knows it she is underneath him.

He’s the one who’s officially done this time- he needs even more now. He at once kisses her lips and lowers himself between her legs. His cock nestles in her folds, and they both cry out as he rubs himself there, back and forth, slowly, finally positioning himself at her entrance.

As she wraps her legs around him to pull him into her, he at once rocks his hips and pushes, sinking in slowly, so slowly, inch by inch, to give her time to adjust. Sliding home. He pulls out ever so slightly, then pushes back in, repeating, again, and again. Rose is sobbing, making helpless little sighing moans and pulls him in further, until he is completely buried inside her body. 

Without realising it, his eyes have been forced shut, and once he is completely within her, he comes back to himself enough to open his eyes. Her eyes are shining. Her heart feels heavy, constricted, like it’s going to burst. There is only one thing she can say, only one thing that could possibly hold any weight in this moment. Wiping the tears from her face, she looks up at him and strokes his cheek. 

“Now you have two hearts again, Doctor.” 

And with that sentence, the Doctor is the one to feel the tsunami, both emanating from himself and from her. Rose inexplicably and effortlessly knows how to pour her own essence into him. Instantaneously, he feels her own yearning, her need. His breath is stolen away as he sees how much she wanted to come with him the first time he asked, and her absolute relief when he came back for her. He feels her empathy for his battered, broken soul and her devotion and resolve to never, ever leave him. He feels her sorrow and guilt that she fell away from their original universe and into this one, and her unjustified self-reproach that she had made a solemn vow of forever and she broke it. He feels her guilt that she has broken the same promise again when it came to his counterpart. 

The Doctor’s tears are dripping now, off his nose and onto her cheeks. “No, Rose. No, love. Don’t…..Please. You kept your promise. I'm the one who broke it. I don't deserve you.”

Rose is concentrating too hard to reply, however, and she replies by showing him how he equally brought colour to her world, woke her up. He feels her_ blinding _desire. He feels her own desperation, her anxiety as he hears her voice screaming, her fists pounding after the walls had been closed. 

_ “TAKE ME BACK!!! TAKE ME BACK, TAKE ME BACK!!!......” _

The air rushes from his lungs at the vision of her trying to bludgeon that wall, trying to get to him. Then he feels a rush of her relentless determination, her blinding, near-obsessive drive to tear the walls of reality down, and to come home to him so she could fulfill that promise. He hears the sound of the Dimension Cannon charging, a kind of electrical, metallic, grinding _WHOOSH,_ and the deafening sound that hurtled her through realities. Blinding flashes, Rose running.

_ “Nobody knows the Doctor like I do, it has to be me.” _

_ “Hello! My name is Rose Smith.” _

_ “He thought you were brilliant, Donna…..It just took the Doctor to show you that, simply by being with him. He did the same to me. To everyone he touches.” _

_ “It feeds off time, by changing time. By making someone's life take a different turn, like meetings never made, children never born, a life never loved….” _

_ “He does it alone, mum. But not anymore, because now he's got me.”_

_ “How long are you going to stay with me?”.........“Forever.” _

_ “...it's the both of you. The Doctor and Donna Noble, together, to stop the stars from going out" "….the Doctor Donna…..” _

_ “Tell him this….two words…….BAD WOLF…….” _

The Doctor can’t keep still any longer, he needs to move. He wipes his tears and he begins slow, languid strokes, pulling almost all the way out, then pushing back into her, burying himself and driving in as far as he can go. Rose cries out low and guttural at the feel of that deep, delicious pressure of him against her womb, again and again. She digs her heels into the backs of his thighs to pull him tighter and squeezes him from the inside, and she’s rewarded with a whimpering cry of his own. She can’t get him deep enough, can’t kiss him hard enough.

The Doctor is the one to send the intensity of his emotions now, that he wants _ this _ as much as possible, that he will never stop wanting her....tenfold now that he knows what it feels like to be surrounded by her. That he can’t wait to spend every morning waking up with her, telling her, reaffirming how much he needs her. But what he wants her to see the most bursts into her head with such force that she gasps audibly. He shows her in vivid images _ each and every time _ he almost said it— and lying within each and every one of these replayed scenes, in between the lines, is each time that he really _ DID _.

_ “I could save the world but lose you.” _

_ “If you see Rose….tell her…..just tell her….oh she knows.” _

She sees him watching her interacting with her family, her parents. She can see the cogs churning, that he can see the timeline that leads to her little brother and how she’ll get to watch him grow. She watches him make the decision to send her away to save her life, and to be with her family, reunited. Not because he didn't want her, but because it was the greatest gift he could ever give her. She then watches him place his hand on the very wall that she was pounding on, from the other side, and then him standing alone in the TARDIS with tears streaking down his face the moment he ran out of time. She sees the brown-suited version of him just this morning, giving the same gift and _ SO _ much more. Giving her himself.

_ “Does it need saying?”_

Rose begins grinding her hips up to meet him, and he catches her mouth against his, tongues wrestling against each other as he pushes into her. He plunges his hand back down between them to feel the place where they are joined, feeling himself sliding into her at the tight band of muscles at her entrance. Her contours hug his length, clinging to him, and Rose feels filled and complete—-and it is the most exquisite thing either of them has ever felt. 

Forehead to forehead, sweat collecting, they are nothing but emotion and sensation. Cresting and falling, swirling and diving. Two soulmates reforged, stronger than ever, now forming the beginnings of a true telepathic bond, of fledgling Bondmates. Here in front of the fire, in this place that exists because of them. _ FOR _ them.

Rose attempts her hand at sending him fuzzy, complete images now,

_ “You really love him, don’t you?” _

_ “Some things are worth getting your heart broken over.” _

_ “I NEED him!” _

_ “I made my choice a long time ago, and I'm never going to leave you” _

_ “The Doctor showed me a better way of living your life. You know he showed you too. That you don't just give up. You don't just let things happen. You make a STAND. You say NO. You have the guts to do what's right when everyone else just runs away, and I just CAN’T!!!” _

_ “Doctor…..find me.” _

_ “I…...I LOVE you.” _

The Doctor, more adept, replays moments for her inside her head at the same time.

_ “What use are emotions when you will not save the woman that you love? _

_ “Is that what you're going to do to me? _

_ NO. Not to you...._ _I don't age. I regenerate. But humans decay. You wither and you die. Imagine watching that happen to someone who you…..._

_ What, Doctor? _

_ You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can't spend the rest of mine with you. I have to live on. Alone. That's the curse of the Time Lords.” _

_ “But Doctor, Rose is coming back. Isn’t that good?”......“Yeah.” _

_ “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” _

He shows her _ exactly _how he felt the moment he saw her standing on the other end of that street and started running. Disbelief, joy, elation. The intention and resolve to never let her go as he began to run. He quickens the pace with short, deep strokes, and grunts out what he needs to say. 

“You think….. I haven’t said…... that I love you. When _ I have. _ Does it _ really _ need saying now, Rose Tyler? Do you understand now? I need you. _ I love you. _ I have _ always…... _ loved you.”

Rose begins uttering short, resounding cries with each deep thrust inside her, and the Doctor knows that she’s close.

“My Doctor…. I love you.”

It becomes hard, fast, and before long Rose shouts out low and deep, and he can feel her spasming around him, squeezing him. This sends him over, and he spills inside her helplessly, and they’re both crying out now.  
  


They're mounting high, and the burgundy colour melds into the gold, becoming the shade of the dawn.

They are one.

Somewhere, light years, universes, and dimensions away, the golden eyelids open, and light spills out.


	6. Fade into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
Track 11 and 12-  
"Touchness" ~Enigma  
"Fade into You" ~Mazzy Star
> 
> As always, your comments motivate the hell out of me and I thank you for them!

Just before dawn, universally on planets that contain life, is a moment when sentient beings collectively hold their breath. This is sometimes known as the great plunge. It is a time that holds the promise of renewal and of things to come--- of awakenings and of discoveries. Some creatures know about it even before there is the faintest trace of light illuminating the furthest rim of the horizon. The nocturnal Shrivenzale of the planet Ribos can actually _ feel _ when day approaches, so that they may retreat to their caves to sleep until night falls once again. Birds and other animals of Earth can sense when dawn is coming, also. Storytellers themselves, they begin their song seemingly in the dark of night, proclaiming that the sunrise is near, and along with it a _ spectacular _show. Colour will return. Many beings feel that they’ve held their breath for the entire night---almost as if they’ve been holding it their entire lives. 

During the night, we retreat to dreams because we can’t bear to see the world without colour for too long. However, when the light does come, hues are brighter than we ever remembered them to be. Perhaps though, it is _ because _ of the darkness that the light truly radiates. We rise from it. The pain of yesterday is lessened. The darkness is ending. And then, unexpectedly, we awaken, whether we’ve chosen to or not.

  
  


_____________________________________

  
  
  


Lying in bed together just before dawn, Rose and the Doctor are curled possessively around one another, bodies pressed together. Rose’s hand rests on the Doctor’s jaw and her head against his chest. Their legs are tangled together, and his arms are wrapped around her, locked firmly by an embrace that won’t let up even in sleep. For all the various reasons they hadn’t been able to keep their eyes open long after the events of the previous night, their brief but frankly spectacular session of lovemaking hadn’t really been one of them. Said session was desperately, achingly needed--- however, the nature of this scene is due to something else entirely. The fact that they had made it to the bed afterward was impressive……...well…....how _ the Doctor _ had managed to half-carry Rose to the bed was the truly impressive part.

The immediate post-coital period had been full of raw emotion. It had been complete with trembling hands, disbelief, caresses and deep, drawn-out kisses, tears (yes, more), _ I love yous, _and then the mandatory waiting for heart rates to return to normal. Then, the Doctor had gotten up to fetch some tissue, only to find Rose fast asleep when he returned. He had then decided that sleeping on the floor would only result in sore backs and cold limbs, especially once the fire fizzled out, so he’d pulled the duvet down, then somehow managed to scoop Rose up from the floor, get her to her feet, help her clean herself up a bit, and pad across the room to the bed. She had managed to flop herself into it with the Doctor’s help, and he had tucked the duvet securely up under her chin. Then he’d climbed in beside her, cuddled up against her, pulling her into himself as she wrapped her arms around him automatically. The Doctor had almost immediately passed out as well, not even noticing the cloud of regeneration energy that puffed out of his lungs as he sighed contentedly.

For the Doctor, having just regenerated into a part-human body, his exhaustion was twofold- he regenerated, _ and _ he was now part of the human race-- at least partly. For Rose, before her long nap in the middle of the day, she had been awake for so long she hadn’t even been sure when the last time she had rested was. She had also been pouring everything she had into the Dimension Cannon project, sleeping only a few hours a night, if at all.…….. _ and _ they both had just helped fight off Daleks and save the universe, no big deal. Typical Doctor and Rose stuff, really.

Much-needed rest had come welcome to each of them, as they drifted together peacefully.

_________________

  
  
  


At the sound of the birds outside, the Doctor finally stirs, and he realises immediately that he’s freezing------_ bloody half-human body temperature_. He raises his head, bleary-eyed. The only light in the room is coming from the embers in the fire and from the patch of moonlight that is stretching across the bed, but his Time Sense tells him it’s just before 8 AM. Ah, yes. Norway is further north than Britain, where he has spent the majority of his time on Earth, and it’s nearly November. He realises that the real reason he’s cold is because the other occupant of the bed has stolen a good portion of the duvet, just like she had during the times they were stranded somewhere without the TARDIS overnight. He remembers with a regretful twinge that those times he wasn’t completely naked and nor was she, as he lightly squeezes her to himself, delightedly noting the press of her bare skin against his. He makes a mental note to purchase himself his own blanket to keep handy, because if he’s going to share a bed with Rose Tyler for the rest of his life, he’d better be prepared or risk hypothermia. Especially now that he’s pretty sure he’ll never be willing to wear pyjamas again.

He also realises that he has to use the loo, so after reluctantly divesting himself of Rose’s warm body and hurrying off to the ensuite, he returns in short order and sinks back into the warmth of the bed, re-covering both of them with the duvet, and settling back in, pulling her back into his arms. There is nothing but stillness in the room, save for the sound of Rose snoring lightly. Rassilon, he’d missed that sound. He had almost forgotten how utterly adorable it is. The only thing visible of Rose is the tangled fluff of her hair, as she is underneath the duvet completely. The Doctor pulls it back ever so slightly, and the moonlight illuminates her hair and part of her face.

He can’t stop looking at her. His single, pathetic heart suddenly feels like it’s going to claw out of his chest cavity, and it’s filled with a weighted, intense pressure, as though someone is sitting on it. For the centuries before he met her, the Doctor’s life had been defined by despair. Then, in an instant, she had flashed into his periphery, promising her companionship to him simply because he had told her he was the last of his kind. Rose Tyler, his very own purveyor of hope. She had understood him from the moment she met him, somehow, just as she had with everyone they ever came across. She had taken a broken, rancid cesspool of a man, and healed his disintegrating soul. The unforgiving soldier that had been there for centuries had started to melt away, revealing the man he used to be--- and even more forgiving, somehow. The very man who had felt his soul ripped out, screaming in agony in his sleep every time he recalled the screams, the battles blurring across worlds all over creation, the hot, twisted metal, the smell of decomposing bodies that were too numerous to round up. 

And the very man who in an instant, had ended it all. Had _ no choice _ but to end it all, knowing well that the Daleks would destroy everything universally, and worse, what the Daleks were inadvertently helping the Time Lords to become. And of course, his other self had been quick to point out his genocidal habit, and the obvious parallels to the day he had pushed that big, red button---- but in all honesty, he had always been his own harshest critic. The man left with no choice always winds up hating himself in the end, no matter the circumstances. 

He pushes it aside and buries it, just as he has for years. He reaches out instead with his mind, and he can feel Rose on the outskirts of his own. As a pair who is still in the first stages of bonding, he still needs physical contact and for her to project her feelings for him to sense much coming from her. Later, they’ll be able to project emotions even when they’re not together and sense when the other is distressed, but for now, Rose’s mind is drifting. He notices happily that the deepest part of her sleep has passed and she’s currently dreaming, so he figures she’ll wake soon. He finds that just like their time together on the TARDIS, he is looking forward to a day filled with her smile, her laughter, and the warmth of her presence.

Rose Tyler had always been the antithesis to everything he believed he was. And he hadn’t even realised how desperately his soul had been grasping in the dark for her until one day she was there in that basement, as if by a miracle. Out of nowhere, he began smiling again, laughing again, and his body felt less wrapped up, less tense. He looked forward to every day, and from the second she went to bed he couldn’t wait for her to wake the following morning. He found that the long hours he wasn’t sleeping himself, he’d had to busy himself with TARDIS repairs, tinkering, and anything else he could. Eventually, the very way he held himself had eased. The place in his chest where his hearts had once felt cleaved out had finally felt a bit less painful----quite physically. The stab of discomfort that had once been there was lessened.

But he couldn’t act on how he felt--- because he knew exactly what would happen if he did. He had always known that once they crossed that line for even a second, he would never let her go, never let her wake up without his lips brushing across her brow---she would never want for _ anything _ for that matter. Yes, she would live a happy life--- he would have spent his every waking moment making sure of that. But every day, he would have been more and more on edge, because every day he would be more and more aware of the tightening noose of her loss---the falling guillotine. The universe could never again handle a Doctor in despair---- he couldn’t allow that. Not again.

And then he had lost her anyway. The universe had seen that for one brief and shining moment, the Doctor was happy--- something he could never deserve. He had tried to do the right thing and give her up when he realised her likelihood of being sucked into the void, doing the only sensible thing that would keep her with her family. But then he had selfishly revelled in the fact that she refused to leave him. And then, in true form as a testament to his life, she was gone forever. Funny, the only person who hadn’t accepted the reality of it was Rose herself. How easily he had given up---the person accustomed to heartbreak eventually stops having the energy to attempt to change it, since the attempt always leads to even more pain. But not to Rose. Inevitability, meet Rose Tyler.

He is brought back to reality when Rose finally stirs, rolling onto her back, stretching. Her eyes flutter open, and that fortuitous patch of moonlight is now spanning across her entire front, which is now uncovered as she raises her arms up over her head. The Doctor’s breath catches as her breasts pool under their own weight, and she looks like a statue of the goddess Fortuna all over again. This time, however, she is nude, real, in bed with him, and very much awake as she looks up and smiles at him. He finds that keeping his hands (and mouth) to himself will prove to be nearly impossible--- right this moment and in the future. He brings himself closer and begins kissing her neck, allowing his breath to brush across her skin. Gooseflesh appears immediately all over Rose’s body, and the Doctor moves up to her ear.

He whispers in her ear, _ “I love you. Good morning.” _

“Mmmm. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that.” She smiles softly at him, guiding his mouth to her lips.

“Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying it,” he says huskily against her mouth.

He tries to kiss her again, but before he can, she pushes him back and hops up and says “Hold that thought. Gotta use the loo.” And she runs off. She’s back within a minute though, and he laughs as she leaps back into bed. 

“Rose Tyler, I didn’t know women could go that fast. There’s always a huge line for the ladies’, isn’t there?”

She starts doing her best Doctor voice, “Wellllll…..when we’re naked and we have motivation it’s definitely doable. Molto bene! Budge up, will you?”

It’s her turn to laugh at her own brilliance, but only for a moment until he brings his mouth to hers, crushing her to him almost desperately, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She opens for him, kissing him back forcefully, threading her hands into his hair, sucking gently on his bottom lip. He cleaves at her back, deepening the kiss even further, sliding his hands into her hair, then stroking her face, trembling already, tracing her lips with his tongue, pushing it back into her mouth, and tracing her teeth. She hums into his mouth, letting out little moans that go directly to his groin.

He pulls away from her mouth and and moves back to her neck, sucking on her skin, which quickly turns into languid, open-mouthed tugs of her flesh into his mouth as he places his hand on the smooth expanse of her stomach, stroking up and down. She tugs on his hair and starts breathing heavily, letting out little open-mouthed sighs now. His hand quickly finds her breast, massaging, rolling and pinching her nipple gently, and tracing the areola with his fingertips. Rose pulls his lips to hers, kissing him hard again, groaning into his mouth and then he descends to her breasts, giving each attention one after the other with his lips and tongue. When his mouth is on one, his hand is on the other, ghosting her skin, drawing each nipple into his mouth, and spending a long time on each--- sucking, licking, tasting the slight saltiness and muskiness from her skin, probably from last night’s events. Rose is panting now, and she brings his lips back up to her mouth, tangling her tongue with his. The Doctor reaches out to her through their connection and find that her mind is already nearly gone with lust, as is his, and she welcomes him, reaching out as well as she can.

She takes his hand in hers, immediately plunging it down between her legs, and whispers breathily, “Touch me here, Doctor. Touch me here….._ need you here. _”

His fingers are met with her slick arousal, and he groans and nearly comes right then as Rose cries out softly. If he could wake up to that sound every morning of his life, if he could document it, he’d give up nearly anything. She keeps her hand on top of his, pushing his fingers through the heat of her, showing him how she needs to be touched, thrusting her hips up to meet his hand. Then she takes his index finger and shows him she wants his digit to find her tiny oversensitive centre, stroking across it ever so slightly, making circular motions, then dipping down to her entrance as he feels a rush of lubrication. Rose’s breath is coming in great heaves now, and her hips are moving, grinding, trying to get more friction. He indulges her, and pushes his first two digits inside her, and at the same time tasting her breast with his tongue, and then taking as much of it into his mouth as he can. He starts pumping his fingers in and out of her, and she is moaning now. His hardness is straining, and he involuntarily begins pushing it against her hip. Rose quickly comes to, realising his need, so she pushes his hand away, shoving him back on the bed, climbing quickly on top of him.

His cock immediately comes in contact with her heat, and he is the one to cry out now. She grinds ever so slowly against him, rocking his length slowly, maddeningly through her slickness--- back and forth, over and over again. The wet sound just from this contact is enough to drive him insane with lust.

_ “Rose, please. Please, love.” _He manages to say into her mind.

Rose knows she’s not quite capable of this so she uses her voice instead, “Please what, Doctor?”

_ “I need to be within you. Please. Put me inside you.” _

And with that, she nudges him gently to her entrance and sinks down onto him, taking all of him inside her in one quick rock of her hips, enveloping him into her tight core, then lifting her hips back up, then rocking back down hard, and he’s inside her more deeply than he thought was possible.

They _ both _ cry out, now, as Rose leans back so that she is vertical on top of him. That miraculous, wonderful patch of moonlight illuminates her body as she begins slowly moving upon him in unhurried yet forceful drives of her hips, sinking down onto him as far as he will go before raising back up just to come back down upon him hard.

His mind and soul buries itself more deeply within hers, and they both sigh contentedly, nearly forgetting what they had missed overnight. They settle into one another as though they’ve been doing this for years---_ eons. _Through their link, Rose relays that no one had ever been quite this deeply within her, mind and body alike, and no one else ever would be again. She lets him feel her throbbing need, and he reciprocates, projecting his own.

The fact that they could wake up this way every morning of their lives if they so choose is enough to stifle him to tears again, so he instead looks up and watches her body flexing in the moonlight, and begins stroking his hands up and down her thighs. He reaches his hands up to her breasts then, stroking and squeezing, cupping her curves tenderly. He alternates the pressure, brushing his fingers ever so lightly over them, then cups them again, letting them fill his hands. He pulls her forward and takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hardened peak, then does the same to the other one. This seems to spur her hips faster, and she starts panting again. Her movements quickly become erratic, and every drive of him into her makes him want to sob. She presses down harder, causing him to push into her more deeply. Both of them realise that this isn’t going to last much longer. She starts making short, hard thrusts of her hips and consciously squeezes her inner walls around him so that she hugs him more firmly, feeling every inch of him stretching her muscles. He needs to reach down and touch now, feeling himself enter her, and circling her centre with his thumb. Rose is done for.

The Doctor lets his hands drop back down to her hips, holding her firmly to him, and thrusting hard up into her. Rose cries out loudly, now with every thrust, letting out guttural sobs, and he knows she’s about to come apart. He grabs onto her shoulders, pulling her down flush to him.

“Rose, look at me. Please. Look into my eyes.”

She relays to him through their link that she doesn’t think she can, she’s so close, but she would try anything for him. She wrenches her eyes open and his face is inches from hers. He looks into her eyes, and says clearly into her mind, 

_ “Rose Tyler, I love you.” _

She can’t respond in words, and her movements become hard and fast, and he’s pounding up into her, pushing into that place where both of them is convinced he belongs, where he has always belonged- deep inside her body and deep within her mind. He grabs her hands, lacing their fingers together, and holds their hands up unmoving so that she can push herself back up and use his arms as leverage.

Their two souls meld further into one another, more as one than before. They _ FEEL _ the other one’s pleasure. They don’t need to send any emotion to the other because they can _ FEEL _ it already. In this moment, they share one soul, one body, one love.

And she indeed can’t keep her eyes open any longer, so she throws her head back and arches off of him, letting out one loud cry as she comes apart, her inner walls clamping down on him. This is enough to send him over the edge right along with her, and he spills himself into her body, each spasm bringing more pleasure than the last.

As the tremors dissipate and they stop moving, Rose collapses on top of him, and they’re both covered in the sheen of sweat in the early morning light. He can feel her heart pounding against his, and she lays her face against his, gasping for air. He hugs her tightly to him, and for several long moments neither of them can move.

The Doctor is the first to speak in between breaths. “That…. was the best morning wake-up service I’ve ever gotten. I should really review them online. Five…..stars. Lend me your phone, will you?”

Rose dissolves into a fit of giggles, reaching over to the bedside table for some tissues, cleaning herself up, then cleans him up as well.

She climbs off the bed and says, “Stay there till I tell you, kay?”

She heads into the ensuite and after a moment, he thinks he can hear water running.

Just then the phone next to the bed rings, and the Doctor rolls over, reaching to answer it. In broken English, a throaty Scandinavian voice says, “Hallo? Ja, is this the room of Ms. Tyler and Doctor Mar-shunn?”

“Erm…..yes, I suppose it would have to be. Actually I’m….Doctor Smith.” He winces, silently cursing Jackie. Yes, establishing an actual name in this universe would be a necessity to use solely for this purpose, if only so that Jackie Tyler had a harder time taking pleasure in tormenting him.

“Ja, Herr Mar-shunn Smith, we wanted to know when you will take your breakfast. Room service has been prepaid for the duration of your stay by Mrs. Tyler.”

“Oh! Erm... 9:30 would be good I suppose. Thank you.”

“Ok, yes, Doctor Marvin Mar-shunn Smith. Wow, your name is long!” The funny voice on the other end snorts obnoxiously. “We will see you shortly, sir.”

“Yeah. Erm….cheers.”

The Doctor rolls his eyes, hanging up the phone, and then lays back down on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. His heart is still thudding in his chest, and he wonders how long he will feel lopsided, like he’s only standing on one leg and is wobbling around trying to regain his balance.

Suddenly a large partition near the bed that he hadn’t previously noticed slides open, and inside is Rose, wet-haired and sunk completely down to her chin in a mountain of bubbles inside the huge round tub, smiling brightly at him.

“Hi! Who was on the phone?”

“Room service. Apparently your mum prepaid. Breakfast’s coming at 9:30. How’s the water?”

“Lovely, but it would be better if there were a naked, incredibly sexy half-Time-Lord hybrid in here too, I think. Need one to wash my back. Know of any?”

He is cheered by her enthusiasm and grins at her maniacally, hurrying into the ensuite. He climbs in with her, sitting down on one of the seats along the perimeter, and pulling her at once into his lap so that she is straddling him. Once the tub is completely full, she turns the water off, sinks back into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and rests her cheek against his. They stay this way for a long time, eyes closed, sighing periodically. Rose eventually lays her head on his shoulder and lets her legs come up behind her so that she is floating on her belly, and the Doctor uses this opportunity to admire her backside.

Rose sighs, “I could get used to this. Us bathing together.”

“_Definitely _,” he replies, emphatically.

She eventually brings her legs back down and pulls away, then takes the detachable shower head off its mount and turns it on, wetting his hair, then rewetting her own. She grabs the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub, squeezing a liberal amount onto both their heads, and she washes his hair. She stands and pulls him up so that they are both standing in the centre of the tub in waist-deep water, and he scrubs her hair, her back, and the rest of her body, paying exaggerated attention to her breasts.

“Now, these need cleaned badly, Miss Tyler. This just won’t do,” he says, imitating the throaty Norwegian singsong voice of the concierge desk clerk. 

She looks up at him, giving him that tongue-touched smile, “Good thing we’ve just shagged, Doctor Marvin the Martian, or else I wouldn’t let you stop doing that.”

“Hey! How’d you hear that?”

Rose cackles. “I was there when Mum called down yesterday to have more towels brought up, only so that they’d go into your room and see that you were ok. She had to say it over and over again really slowly for that concierge bloke so she just made up a name.” 

For good measure, she takes the bottle of soap, squeezes some into her hand, then steps up on one of the seats, pulling him up with her so that they’re mostly out of the water. She then places her hand between his legs, and begins to stroke up a good lather.

At once he shuts up, as his eyes roll back into his head. He’s hard once again almost immediately, even though they’re both spent.

“Pretty sure this needs washed, seein’ as this is your first proper bath in this body, and you’ve used it quite vigorously. ‘Course you might be using it again before the day is out, if you play your cards right, Dr. Martian.”

“Mmm,” he says as he leans his weight against her. 

He opens his eyes, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her again, then he promptly scoops her up into his arms, turns towards the centre, and drops her mercilessly into the tub, creating a huge splash and nearly a mushroom cloud’s worth of bubbles cascading all over the room.

She comes up, roaring with laughter, reaching blindly for the shower head, trying to clear the soap and her own hair away, which is hanging in front of her face with curtains of water sluicing down off of it.

“AAARRGGGGGH! I’ve shagged an Ood! I better take off now before it spits its brains out at me!”

“Doctor!! That is _ NOT _ playing your cards right, you arse!”

He grabs the shower head before she can reach it, aiming it straight at her face and blasts her with it, laughing hysterically, “Or are you a Zygon?? Back, foul shapeshifting temptress! I know what you really are!”

Rose splutters, “You’re _ dead _ when I find you, and I know you can’t regenerate. You should probably make yourself scarce, Time Lord. You can’t get far, you’re sudsy and starkers!”

She opens her eyes a crack, just enough to find him, and she pulls him back down into the deeper part of the water with her. He sits back on the seat, still laughing his head off, and Rose submerges herself, smoothing her hair back, wiping the water from her face as she resurfaces. She crawls back into his lap, taking the shower head and dousing him with it, rinsing his hair and the remnants of the soap away. He finally calms down, sighing at the feel of her fingernails lightly scratching his scalp.

“Am I really in trouble?” he says, mock-pouting, eyes closed as he lets her run her hand through his dark brown hair, clearing all the bubbles away.

“You’re always in trouble,” she says, laughing. She kisses him, taking his protruding lower lip into her mouth for a moment, then pulls away again.

She watches him, with water dripping down his face, and she turns the water off, returning the shower head to its holder. She brings her face close to his and starts examining his freckles, tenderly kissing each one she finds. He opens his eyes, blinking the remnants of moisture away, looking off at nothing in particular. 

Suddenly he’s back to serious Oncoming-Storm-Doctor. It’s that same look she knows, just like when he’d look at a sunset on some far off planet. Like he was lost, but then he’d grab her hand and smile. The way he’d looked when he was taking in the stillness of the ice on Woman Wept or out into that black hole. Like a storm is brewing but he can’t voice what is going on inside his head. Rose pulls him close, and this time she’s the one to initiate telepathic contact, sending him feelings of tranquility and reassurance. She feels the happiness and yet the lingering melancholy inside his heart, and she reaches out to calm it. She is surprised when he speaks. 

“This is like my tub on the TARDIS.” 

She pulls back, looking into his eyes, searching, and he gives her a pained look, swallowing thickly. It’s that same layered-with-meaning look, the one that he’s been giving her since yesterday--- _ BOTH _ of him. As though he needs for her to tell him again.

She places her hand on his cheek. “We’ll put another one in the new TARDIS once it’s big enough. _ Our _ TARDIS, yeah? We can go pick one out together. We’ll get the biggest one we can find. And the one at my flat isn’t so bad in the meantime.”

She lifts his chin so that he’s looking into her eyes. “_Our _ flat, Doctor. I know there’s doors and windows and carpets. But it can be ours. If you want.”

The Doctor sends love and undertones of gratefulness to her through their link.

“Rose, I….Thank you. And yes, I do. I’d love that. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere other than with you. Not much makes sense to me right now, but as far as living situations nothing else would feel right to me. I need to be with you.” 

“I have a spare bedroom. You know...for TARDIS growing purposes. And all your bits and bobs.”

He doesn’t answer, but he brings her in for a tender kiss, but pulls away quickly.

“Who am I, Rose?” 

He looks directly into her eyes as though his life depends on her answer, then he continues, looking away, as moisture gathers in his eyes.

“For 900 years I knew exactly who I was, even after a regeneration. I might have been confused until the regeneration energy completely left my system, but I always figured it out in the end. The definition of ‘me’ was easy. Logical. Measurable, just like Time. But now….” 

Rose encircles his neck loosely with her arms, and presses her forehead against his. The harbour of her embrace and the sureness of her touch, if the Doctor is being honest, is the only place in the multiverse he wants to find himself. Yet, the pained look she sees in his eyes at this moment closely reminds her of when he told her his planet was gone, all those years ago. She wanted back then as she does right now to pledge herself as the protector of his hearts (or heart, no matter really.) 

_ “There’s me…..”_

But now, one heart, bit of human DNA, and no TARDIS, he is somewhat lost. She brings her hands up, stroking his sideburns, down his neck, and across his bare chest. She pulls his chin up so that he will look her in the eye again.

“I want you to listen to me, Doctor, and I don’t want you to interrupt until I am done. Last night, in the middle of….everything, there was a point where you told me that you didn’t deserve me. I want to make one thing absolutely clear, and you need to really pay attention.” 

She begins slowly and firmly, but gently nonetheless, “All those years ago, when I told you I’d never leave you….. did you not think I really meant it? Did you not understand that? I meant it _ SO _ much that I ripped apart reality to find you again, under the pretense that the stars were going out. Sure, I was concerned we might all die. But what I needed---what I _ really _ needed wasn’t to save the universe, Doctor. What I needed was you. You deserve my love, and I deserve yours. _ WE. DESERVE. THIS. _ We always have.”

The Doctor is dumbfounded, and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

Rose continues. “I didn’t tear apart universes for the TARDIS. Not for the travel, not for seeing the universe. That was a perk, yes. It was amazing and wonderful, and we had a laugh. I tore apart universes for you. Because I need you. YOU. Every version of you. From that stupid celery to the ridiculous technicolour coat. Right down to THIS you, part human, one heart, and stump of TARDIS that may or may not grow. I was a little unsure of who you were at first, but then I quit being a moron long enough to figure it out. You are the Doctor. That is all you will ever be, and all I will ever need. Don’t you _ dare _ ever tell me again that you don’t deserve me. That you don’t deserve _ this. _” 

His eyes have begun leaking again, and she can feel through the link that he is completely overwhelmed and can’t speak. Instead, he sends her wave after wave of gratitude.

He closes his eyes, and tears drip down his face. She scatters more tender kisses across his nose and eyelids as he pulls her tightly to him. He takes a deep breath when he can finally speak, and there is only one thing he can say in words.

“I love y—”

Suddenly, they’re interrupted by a loud knock on the door outside the ensuite. Rose’s head snaps up.

“Oh, bollocks. Breakfast.” Rose squeezes the moisture from her hair and hurries out of the tub, then quickly puts on one of the dressing gowns hanging nearby. She skids along the floor on her way out. 

“Doctor, you got water absolutely everywhere. I’m lucky I didn’t fall!”

She closes the door to the ensuite, then opens the main door and the man waiting outside says “Hallo, room service!”

When the room service attendant sees her his jaw drops.

Rose hastily pulls the cart he has into the room, and they are both interrupted by a loud screech, yelp, and thud coming from the ensuite.

“Madam is everything quite alright?”

Rose pushes him out of the room and calls as the door shuts, “Yes! We’re fine, he’s just an idiot. Goodbye!”


	7. Jupiter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long-- I got a horrible cold, then it was Thanksgiving, and now suddenly it's the holidays and things are crazy. Thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> Playlist track 13:  
"Guiding Light," Mumford and Sons
> 
> 14:  
"Jupiter," Sleeping at Last.
> 
> I wrote it down in the winter of 1610.  
Just a secret under lock and key until then.  
While collecting the stars, I connected the dots.  
I don't know who I am, but now I know who I'm not.  
I'm just a curious speck that got caught up in orbit.  
Like a magnet it beckoned my metals toward it.  
Make my messes matter.  
Make this chaos count.  
Let every little fracture in me  
Shatter out loud.  
Make my messes matter.  
Make this chaos count.  
Let every little fracture in me  
Shatter out loud.

If the Doctor could count the most wonderful moments of his life up to this point and put them into a pile, the number would be staggering. Over nine-hundred years of existence leaves ample room for happy memories: thousands of people met, and dozens who travelled with him and became like family. Some of the more stellar moments stick out in particular, like brilliant points of light burning in the blackness. There was, of course, that day when everybody lived. There was driving around in Bessie and having Sarah Jane or Jo tell him off for driving like a maniac. There were all those amazing adventures with his Sarah Jane, and then being reunited with her relatively recently. There was going punting with Romana, and their entire odd friendship that only two Gallifreyans could share. There was the moment he and Susan stole the TARDIS and ran away from that dusty old planet, their stupid collars, and their ridiculous rules. There was the moment he bonded with the TARDIS, and she with him. There was seeing his companions’ faces when he popped out from inside a Dalek’s shell. Filling awkward moments by offering someone a Jelly Baby. Donna’s face the moment they saved the Ood. The Brigadier’s laugh. Ace calling him professor. Lucie Miller and her incessant mouth. Tegan Jovanka and _her_ incessant mouth. Rose agreeing to come with him. The way Rose looked on Woman Wept. That Christmas with Rose, Mickey, and Jackie. Lying in the apple grass with Rose. Rose telling him she’d stay with him forever. Martha saving the world from the Carrionites by yelling _ “Expelliarmus!” _ His happiness when Donna showed up with all her ridiculous hatboxes, ready to move in, even though he pretended to be annoyed.

Really though, if he thinks about it, the second half of yesterday and today have definitely contained the largest number of good memories. There was running to Rose in the street, desperately trying to get to her. Kissing Rose. Making love to Rose, once last night and once earlier that morning--- and looking forward to the next time like he was looking forward to the sun rising. More kissing Rose, and the ability to do so anytime he wanted to. Exploring Rose’s body. Bathing with Rose. Spending time naked with Rose like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Beginning a telepathic bond with Rose, and showing her his soul as she simultaneously bared hers---and through this,_ actually feeling _ the magnitude of her love for him.

However, the one he currently finds himself in ranks up there too. They’re lying on the bed, fire blazing in the fireplace, and Rose is currently fast asleep with her head on his chest while he holds her. He figures that her exhaustion over the last several years has finally caught up with her, so he is more than happy to act as her pillow. It gives him an excuse to occasionally put down the historical map book he’s scribbling notes in to watch the rise and fall of her breath, comb his fingers through her hair, lightly brush her ear with his fingers, or stroke her cheek. 

Aside from the considerable bruise on his backside from landing naked on the bathroom floor earlier that morning, it had thus far been a wonderful day. They had eaten a huge breakfast at the small table in their room, and Rose had commented on what a pleasure it was to have an appetite again, which made him very happy indeed. He had looked at her surprised, though, when she gulped down 3 cups of coffee.

“Since when do you drink that much coffee??

“Since I stopped sleepin’ regularly. Now it’s jus’ a habit,” she had said, mouth full of croissant. “I need my coffee, otherwise I start throwin’ things.”

“Duly noted,” he had said, his eyes huge as saucers.

After breakfast, Rose had wanted to go explore, so the Doctor had reluctantly gotten dressed. He’d styled his hair, and put his blue suit back on, and Rose had put on jeans and her new fairisle sweater. They had first headed back down to the beach to enjoy the warmer weather. Fourteen degrees was positively balmy in these parts for being nearly November, so they enjoyed it while they could, although the Doctor continually looked over at the gathering dark clouds in the distance with concern. He had then excitedly ran to explore the tide pools, reaching in to touch the starfish and other creatures.

After he had pulled out some type of snail he didn't think existed in the other universe, Rose had asked him what he was holding, and he had reached deep into his breast pocket for his glasses so that he could see the creature better. They of course were not there, but he pulled out something that he definitely hadn’t expected--- a sonic screwdriver. It had a handle covered in narrow wood panels, and a tip with three dingy gold, protruding prongs along with three arched wires that held a very large, beautiful blue gemstone, and it was all very Steampunk-looking. He tossed the snail aside.

“Is that a sonic? How did it get in there?”

“It’s one I used right before the War, yes,” he had said, beaming, and handing it to Rose.

She had turned it over in her hand. “So why was it in your pocket?”

His elation had been contagious, and Rose looked at it excitedly as he explained, “The TARDIS, I should think. One last way for her to take care of me. I went through my pockets yesterday to see what was in them but I must not’ve made it to the bottom of this one.”

Rose had pushed the button, and the big gemstone glowed blue, emitting the familiar high-pitched electronic whirr.

“It’s gorgeous! I love that the stone is TARDIS blue like your old one.”

“It’s from Gallifrey. It’s called Arcadium. It came in several different colours, and entire mines were full of it. I’ve used it in a number of my sonics to help channel the energy. I used to put it inside the handle but this was the first time I put it on the outside. Became a habit, as you now know.”

He had put it back in his pocket, and then Rose had smiled and said, “C’mon, let’s walk a little bit then go into town to see if we can’t find somewhere to pick up some geek glasses so you can see.”

After their hand-in-hand walk along the beach, they had walked into town to visit the small shop of an optometrist who had been able to fix the Doctor up with lenses and similar frames to what he had before. While they waited for the lenses to be cut, they had visited the bookshop, which the Doctor was sure was the entire reason Rose had wanted to leave the room in the first place, knowing her love for books. Their moments in the library of the TARDIS together had been some of the happiest times of his life. The shop had plenty of books in English, and Rose had told him to pick out anything he wanted, but he wasn’t particularly interested until she had tried to buy him a book about a part-human alien named Corin. 

“Look, he’s like you, Doctor!”

The Doctor’s interest was piqued. They found a couple of poufy cushions to sit on, and looked through the books they were considering. The Doctor began leafing through the book about the half-alien, but at the speed he devoured books, he had had enough after about 3 minutes. He tossed it aside, scoffing. 

“Erm….no. Utter rubbish. Definitely nothing like me. A dog? It? You would never do that, even to an actual dog. Plus I’m not a complete moron like this bloke.”

He had then yanked her cushion close to his, hopped over onto it with her, taking her hand in his. 

He'd looked straight into her eyes and spoken in a voice that was low but not lacking in intensity. “Rose, thank you. For having unshakable faith in me. For saving me. Thank you for making me feel loved. Thank you for letting me be me, regardless of what body I’m in. For validating and respecting everything that I am, and for giving me hell when I don't live up to it. For never giving up on me, even when I myself had given up. And thank you for being _nothing_ like the girl in this book.”

“Doctor, if I was like the girl in this book, I hope that you wouldn’t have even bothered with me from the beginning.”

“Yes. But you’re not. You’re Rose Tyler. You wouldn’t treat anyone like that, let alone me. And _that’s_ why I fell for you in the first place.”

She had pulled his forehead down and kissed it. “I love you too, you daft Time Lord. C’mon, let’s pay for these and go get your glasses.”

He hadn’t been too keen on letting her buy stuff for him until she'd told him she’d buy that ridiculous book and read it to him loudly through the door every time he went to the loo. Eventually he backed down, and he had selected a couple of books on world history complete with maps (which was of course slightly different in this universe), and a book called _Good Omens._ He liked Neil Gaiman and had even met Terry Pratchett once in his fourth life with Romana. He had then selected another Neil Gaiman book for Rose, called _Stardust_, deeply pleased that this author and all of his books existed in this universe.

“Rose, I’d like you to read this. You’re Yvaine.” 

“Erm...ok, thank you.”

He had never asked her to read anything before, so Rose figured that it had to mean something. She had been reluctant to leave the little bookshop, but the Doctor had then promised her he’d take her to the best bookshop in the world on their zeppelin voyage.

They then had stopped by the optometrist’s for the Doctor’s new glasses before heading back up to the inn. 

They noticed on the way back how the wind had picked up, and dark clouds were gathering even more ominously in the distance. 

Once back in the room, they had been delighted to find that a new stack of wood had been added to the fireplace rack, new towels had been added to the bathroom to replace the still-soaked ones used to sop up the wet floor that morning, new dressing gowns were added, and the bed had been remade.

The Doctor had then noticed that Rose’s face seemed rather pale, so he had insisted that they both get into their pyjamas and have a rest. After changing clothes, the Doctor had been stacking wood into the fireplace when he looked over and saw that the lump that was Rose was already snoring lightly from under the covers. He chuckled to himself and finished building the fire and joined her. He didn’t really need extra sleep owing to the fact that he was still part Time Lord, but he wanted to be close to her. He pulled her close, folding her into himself, lying on his back, and she settled on his chest. Within his mind, he felt her send him her thanks and her love as she drifted back to sleep. He sent it right back, even helping her along in falling into a restful, dreamless state.

_______________________

So this is where he finds himself. He periodically looks down at Rose and his heart seizes. He still can’t believe she is here with him. He realizes that he’s incredibly antsy to progress their telepathic relationship further, and at a moment where things aren’t quite as...heated. He’s flipping through one of his new books, reading about how this universe’s version of the Norman conquest had occurred 15 years earlier and Rose’s phone vibrates on the bedside table. The Doctor sees that it’s Pete, so he picks it up and answers.

“Hello, Pete! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, Doctor. It is good to hear your voice. I wanted to call and see if you had made a decision about your name. What do you want to be called? I wanted to get your paperwork started.”

Rose stirs, hearing the entire conversation, cutting in groggily, “He’s the _ DOCTOR, _ Pete. He wants to be called the Doctor.”

“Yes, tell Rose I know that. But officially.”

The Doctor pats Rose’s back, reassuringly. “John Smith is fine, Pete. Since I’m used to it.”

“Middle name?”

“Alistair, I think. For a dear friend.”

“Okay. What is your birthdate then? How old do you want to be?”

“Erm….I dunno. Rose? How old am I? How old are you, even?”

“No idea. All the time travel and jumps, twenty-seven maybe?”

“Ok, make me thirty-seven then.”

“What’s your birthday?

“Twenty-third November. For the first time I landed on Earth.”

“Ok. Well it’s great to have you here, Doctor. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. You are an expert in all the things we do, so we hope you’ll consider working with us. I know that you worked with our counterpart organisation in the other universe and were an asset.”

“Hold on, I have never worked for Torchwood. Jack Harkness turned it around for good but I still don’t make it a habit of working for formerly evil organisations, especially ones that ruined my life five years ago.” He squeezes Rose to his chest.

Rose raises her head and cuts in again. “No, Doctor. S’not Torchwood anymore. Torchwood and the Preachers combined to form UNIT. Harriet Jones is still president over here and she signed the order.”

“Hm. Very interesting……..I’ll have to keep an eye on her too, looks like.”

Pete quickly cuts back in, “I’ll let Rose tell you how things have changed, but if you agree, I can provide you some space for a lab. Jacks tells me you have quite the little project on your hands. Just let me know and we’ll get it all set up for when you’re back in London.”

The Doctor winces, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course, Pete. I don’t want to be full-time, but I’ll help where I can.”

As a rule, he hates feeling indebted to anyone, especially Pete and Jackie Tyler. _ Hates _it. But with his hands tied, he doesn’t have a choice. He needs somewhere to grow his TARDIS, and he's sure that Rose’s flat won’t cut it for long.

Pete continues. “Good. I also wanted to let you two know that the zep might be late due to the storm that is coming in. You might be stuck there another day or so. We’ve already arranged for your room and room service to be taken care of if that’s the case.”

“I did notice the wind was much colder on the walk back up this afternoon. The sky didn’t look promising. Thank you, Pete. I appreciate your help but I still insist on paying you back once I’ve gotten myself afloat.”

“Doctor, I know you’re much older than me but I am going to claim seniority on this, since it looks as if you’ll be spending your life with my daughter. You _ gave _ me what I have now. You gave me my wife back, in a way, and actually an improvement if we’re being brutally honest, as tragic as it was when the other one was killed. You are the reason I have a son and now I have Rose too. You will _ not _ pay me back for a single thing I give you, and that’s the end of it. I am one of the richest men in the world, both in actual wealth and now in quality of life, but I’m also a realist. I know to be grateful where it’s due. And that is all I’m going to say about any of it. Now, there’s to be wind and rain, turning to snow overnight, so be careful with the zep. She has a de-icing feature. If you don’t keep it on, the snow will weigh her down.”

“Got it. Thank you…..again, Pete. Truly.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I never really let you know how grateful I am. Have a great trip. You both deserve it.”

They say goodbye and the Doctor lays back down next to Rose, forehead to forehead. She gives him a smile and he kisses her on the nose.

She says, “You ready for dinner? I think we skipped lunch since that breakfast was so huge. M’starvin.”

“Yeah. Call them up.”

The Doctor gets up and goes to the window, watching the rain come down in the growing darkness as Rose calls room service.

“Yes, this is Rose Tyler. Just ordering dinner. For two please. Whatever you have as the special. Yes, Dr. Martian is here too. Yes. Yes. Ok. Thank you.”

Rose flops back on the bed in uncontrollable laughter, and the Doctor smiles, rolling his eyes and looks back out the window. Once her giggles subside, Rose comes over behind him and puts her arms around him, encircling his waist.

“So, where are we going to go?” she asks.

“What do you mean?”

“On the zeppelin. The universe isn’t at our leisure, but Planet Earth is. Where you takin’ me?”

He perks up at the mention of their upcoming adventure. “Welllll……. I thought we could decide together. Take turns deciding, like when we had the TARDIS.”

“Yes but this time you’re not droppin’ me off at an ABBA concert by myself.”

“That was because of the Graske. And I thought you had a good time!”

“I did. But I seem to remember saying ‘better with two’ and actually meaning it.”

They walk over in front of the fire waiting for their food, and the Doctor sits on the floor, cross-legged. He extends his hand out for Rose to sit with him, knee-to-knee. He opens his book entitled “History of the World by Map” and shows her his notes.

“Where is a place you’ve always wanted to go, Rose? On Earth, obviously.”

“Well, lots of places. But I think Iceland would be amazing, especially at this time of the year. You know, since we’re already in Scandinavia. I want to see the Northern Lights. By next week, places will start decorating for Christmas. What about you?”

“Oh I have lots of ideas. Don’t want to share yet. Iceland sounds lovely to start, though.” He smiles enigmatically.

Rose smiles back, and looks back down to the map. “Your language is gorgeous, Doctor. Could you teach me? Can you show me how to write my name?

The Doctor stands enthusiastically and goes to fetch some paper on the bedside table. He sits back down next to her, takes his pen and draws up the looping, circular characters and lines.

“That’s my name? It says Rose?”

“Sort of. It says ‘Arkytior.’ That means ‘Rose’ in High Gallifreyan. It’s a particularly significant name to me, and it’s part of why I knew you would change my life.”

“What d’you mean?”

He sighs and leans back on his hands. “Well….it was my granddaughter’s chosen name on Gallifrey. Not granddaughter in the sense you think, because of the looming, but she was still biologically my granddaughter. I was only sixty or so when she was born. We weren’t really that different in age, comparatively, and we were both in our first regenerations. Any one of her regenerations could have appeared older than any one of mine. Eventually, she did away with the name Arkytior because she wanted to blend in when she started school on Earth, so she chose Susan. She married a human called David. I was happy for her.”

‘What about yours? Did you change your name too?”  
  


He looks down.“Yes…._ ’Doctor’ _ is the name I chose.”

Rose leans in, reaching for him, and pulls him towards her. “So...what is your real name?”

He looks down and takes her hands in his, then looks back up into her eyes, swallowing thickly. “Rose…...there is only ---_ one--- _ way I could ever give you my real name. And I want to—- you have no idea how much. I _ need _ to. Just not yet. It’s not time. You will know it one day soon though. You will carry it with you because it is a part of the Marriage Bond. For when we become one.”

Before Rose can say anything in response, the Doctor continues, “That kind of brings me to my next point, and what I want to do now.” He swallows again. Rose is actually astonished that he’s laying himself open about what _ he _wants. Possibly for the first time in his life.

“Rose, I wanted to practice telepathy with you in a moment that isn’t so….passionate. I believe we could potentially get through to the mind, even this early. It will take lots of concentration but I believe it’s possible, because you’re taking to this faster than I could have imagined. Probably because of Bad Wolf and because you’ve had the TARDIS in your head. You are an absolute natural.” He brushes the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

Rose is confused and furrows her brow. “What d’you mean, ‘the mind?’ Isn’t that what we’ve been doing already?”

“Sort of. Before we can form a permanent bond, your mind has to be trained to accept and accommodate it. You have to learn to accept me into your own mind and you have to learn how to go into mine. Since yesterday, we’ve been skimming the surface, or the soul. That is everything that is emotional and immediate. These are the things we can’t hide from each other because they’re too strong, so they kind of overflow. With me so far?”

“I think so. So that’s why we couldn’t have been more….before. Right?”

“Yes. That is why. My feelings for you would have overflowed into a premature telepathic connection.” He lifts her hands up, scattering kisses across her knuckles before he continues.

“The mind is what’s the inner person. How we think, our personality, our individuality. And this is where memories originate, which we have shared already, a little bit. Rose, I’m fairly certain that you’re ready for more. Each of our minds will look like a physical place that the other can visit. And in the future, they will be joined as one, just like two people who move into a flat together.”

Rose smiles. “Or a TARDIS.”

The Doctor smiles back. “Yes, which hopefully we’ll share again. But anyway, the mind---it’ll have each of our own personal touches, with our personal memories, but together. Now, this doesn’t mean that I can access all your thoughts, feelings, or memories, or you mine. It means that only the ones we feel comfortable sharing with one another will be visible to the other person.”

Rose understandably has a million questions, but just then they hear a knock at the door, indicating that dinner has arrived. The Doctor answers it and takes the cart from the man in the hallway, and pulls one of the chairs out at the little table, indicating to Rose to sit. He serves her dinner and pours her a glass of wine, then does the same for himself.

Rose grins at him. “My! What courtesy. Will there be an after-dinner service provided, too?” She waggles her eyebrows, mocking him.

The Doctor scoffs. “Rose Marion Tyler, is that all you think about?” he chuckles as he sits down next to her.

She answers softly, yet loud enough for him to hear, “Only since I met you and all variations thereof.” 

He scoots his chair over so he’s sitting very close to her, pulling her in for a kiss, which sizzles right off the bat. She threads her hands immediately into his hair and runs her tongue over the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open. He sucks lightly on her tongue and groans, which causes her to quickly jump up and sit in his lap, straddling him over the chair. She wraps her arms around him and she can already feel his hardness through their clothes, so she begins to grind against it as she pulls his mouth roughly to hers again. His hands go automatically under her shirt and up to her breasts, as he begins massaging them, pinching her nipples. He lifts up her camisole to uncover her chest, and latches onto one breast as Rose grinds against him even harder.

Rose cries out, “_ Ohhh…...god, I want you. _ I want you so much. Need you inside me, Doctor. Like, every second of every day. And now it’s a hundred times worse.” She chuckles lightly as he sucks on her skin, drawing her nipple into his mouth as she moans, then continues. “I’d….. like to show you just what I’d do to every variation of you, but our dinner’s gonna get cold.”

He releases her, “I’m quite enjoying my mouth on _ you_, at the moment. And my mouth’d like to explore other parts of your body too before the night is out. Plus, you started it. But you’re right. My stomach feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. Later, Rose Tyler. Just you wait.” He pulls her hips into him, hard, as he thrusts up against her one more time and holds her to himself for several seconds. She cries out again.

He unceremoniously picks her up and sets her back down onto her chair, standing, his hair mussed. He’s rather flushed, and there’s an obvious tenting in his pyjama bottoms. 

“Just gonna….walk this off a minute.”

Rose starts laughing again hysterically at the sight of him hobbling around the room, jumping up and down, obviously uncomfortable. 

She calls out, loudly---“Margaret the Slitheen naked on a cold day, Doctor. An Ood doing a striptease. The receptionist from downstairs calling you Dr. Marvin the Martian and singing you a song about it on the ukulele. The Absorbaloff in a string bikini.”

“Okay. _ OKAY _…..thanks. I’m good. You had me at Margaret the Slitheen.”

He sits back down and they’re both cracking up. Rose actually has tears rolling down her cheeks. Eventually calming down, they investigate their dinner. It is Sodd, another type of hearty stew, which they find that they both enjoy immensely. There’s even Kringla, a Norwegian pastry for dessert.

The Doctor regales Rose in some tales of his adventures with Martha and Donna, with Shakespeare, Agatha Christie, Pompeii, and the Ood. She’s visibly angered at the re-emergence of the Cult of Skaro and their appearance in New York, but then he moves quickly past it, telling her of his adventures with _ both _ Donna and Martha in tow, which seem to have yielded at least some happy moments for him. He tells her of the Sontarans, the Hath, and of Jenny. He falters in this explanation, and she holds his hand through it, sending waves of love through their budding connection

Once they’ve finished, they settle back on the rug in front of the fire. The Doctor once again takes her hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over them.

“Can we continue? Is that ok?”

She nods.

He is obviously having a hard time formulating words when he continues. “Rose, I can’t really……. tell you what this means to me.” He looks down at their hands, and when he looks back up, his eyelids are rimmed red. 

“You don’t…..quite understand what you’re giving me. It’s much bigger than you imagine. And you are the only person in the multiverse that I could ever imagine sharing this with.”

“Doctor, I know what I’m giving you. What do you think I meant when I said forever?”

Rose doesn’t hear his reply, but he pulls her close and rests his forehead against hers. 

_ Walk into my mind, Rose. _

All of a sudden she feels herself swaying, swinging on a pendulum. Giant hands clank in an invisible circle, maddeningly.

_ Tick, tick, tick. _

The Earth is moving, spinning, and carrying her with it. Beyond that, she feels the pull of the Moon propelling around the planet, pulling on her. The tide pushing forth and retreating. She feels both the Earth and the Moon plummeting through the solar system, comets burning through existence, and the spiral of the galaxy.

She feels an acute awareness of the passage of time, every millisecond, every grain of sand dropping, and she instantly knows how many minutes she’s been alive, and how many minutes the Doctor has. The difference is staggering. She feels tiny, insignificant.

She hears BOTH of his hearts pounding in her head- even though this body only technically has one, the twin heart beat of a Time Lord thudding a beat of four, over and over. Onetwothreefour, Onetwothreefour. Onetwothreefour.

She feels eternity and nothingness. An empty chasm. She feels silence, pushing in and compressing her. Deafening obscurity, suffocating stillness. An awareness of voices that were once there. She feels his loneliness, his desperation. His raging anger, his scars, cleaved into his very soul. She feels a loss that takes her breath away. She goes cold instantly, her whole body and extremities go numb. Her own heart begins to pound, her breath becomes short, and she is about to start screaming in terror.

But before it all becomes too much, all of a sudden, there are two points of light, radiating warmth. They move closer, and Rose realizes that they are eyes. Two golden eyes, open and aware. Golden light pours out of them, and the rest of the facial features become brighter, to the point where the light moves behind the entire figure, radiating out. She realizes at once that she’s looking at her own face, surrounded by a halo of golden hair. She peers into her own eyes, and instead of light now, or even her irises, there are stars, nebulas, and heavenly bodies. The entire universe. And in that instant, she once again she feels his love crash over her like a violent tempest. This is different, she realises, because this is not love he has projected to her---this is love that just is. All the time, every second of every day.

_ Rose, open your eyes. _

There he is, before her, sitting in his brown suit and long coat. Her heart drops, and suddenly she can’t breathe. His face and features are only there for a moment though, because his face rapidly melds and morphs and he’s got the cropped hair and leather jacket. She can _ feel _ his calloused hands. Her heart aches now, seeing her first Doctor, if only for a second. 

Then he’s older, wearing a battered leather jacket and an expression that wrenches her gut. Back further, his hair longer, and he’s wearing a ruffled shirt. Each one of him moves and morphs faster than the last. A question-marked umbrella. That horrible technicolour outfit. Cricket outfit and celery, and a smile that could light up the room. Curly hair and a long scarf. Not a single one of him feels unfamiliar. A cape. Funny trousers and a recorder. And finally an old man, getting younger, and younger. Eventually he’s a very handsome young man with long, sandy-coloured hair and vibrant green eyes wearing a huge, ornate metal collar that goes over his shoulders and a high back behind his head. The collar has a beautiful hour-glass symbol on it, and writing she immediately recognises as Gallifreyan. 

He finally retreats, pulling them out of the connection slowly. He’s back to himself, clad in his pyjamas. Rose feels that if she saw any one of him, any one of these men, she’d recognise him instantly. Because she knows his hearts, his soul. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, Doctor. Every single one of you was so beautiful.”

“Any one of me would love you. Can…...we continue? Can we go back in? Are you tired?”

“No, not at all. Keep going.”

“Rose, this time I want you to do it. Push past the physical and exist only in the metaphysical. Envision me.”

She closes her eyes, and does as he says. She concentrates only on the tickle she feels in the back of her mind, grasping at him and pulling. 

She’s standing in blackness, and he is standing next to her. There is a door about fifty feet away, and light floods out of it.

_ Welcome to my mind. Go inside, Rose. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 8th Doctor's second sonic screwdriver:  
https://www.shapeways.com/forum/t/doctor-who-uncommon-8th-doctors-sonic-screwdriver.24268/
> 
> And the story it came from:  
https://tardis.fandom.com/wiki/Dark_Eyes_(audio_anthology)


	8. Uneven Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
"Trouble"- Ray Lamontagne  
"Uneven Odds"- Sleeping at Last  
"Have a Little Faith in Me" -Jewel (Youtube only)
> 
> This chapter was tough. It's incredibly dense, visual, and emotional. As always, thanks for sticking with me. I love your comments, they are seriously the best thing in the world. Also thanks to my fangirl friends. I just love you, you know who you are.
> 
> Trigger warnings: PTSD, anxiety

As the years move on these questions take shape  
Are you getting stronger or is time shifting weight?  
No one expects you to understand  
Just to live what little life your mended heart can

You’ll always remember the moment God took her away  
For the weight of the world was placed on your shoulders that day

Maybe your light is the seed  
And the darkness the dirt  
In spite of the uneven odds

Beauty lifts from the earth

From the earth

You’re much too young now  
So I write these words down:  
_“Darkness exists to make light truly count.”_

~Sleeping at Last

_________________________________________________________

Rose places her hand on the door jamb and steps through gingerly, entering the Doctor’s mind. Before she can remind herself that the slight textured feel of the wood grain surrounding the door isn’t actually real, the sight of what she beholds takes her breath away as her eyes focus. The Doctor’s mind is a library---because _ of course _ it is.

Not only is it a library, it is the _ largest _ library she has ever seen- even larger than the one on the TARDIS. On instinct she looks back, waiting for the Doctor himself to “enter” the room and accompany her, seeking his hand, but her gut then tells her that he is instead letting her have this time to take everything in. It is, after all, _ his _ mind. She walks deeper into the room and feels the Doctor’s endless gratitude wash over her. He wants her to know him…...no…... _ needs _ her to know him. He _ needs _ this intimacy with her, because to a Time Lord, this is its truest form.

_ Rose...thank you. _

She tentatively steps across the polished dark wood floor stretching out in front of her, with its inlaid circular patterns she recognises as Gallifreyan spanning all the way up to walls upon walls of books. There are dozens of alcoves along the walls, each is lined with even more books, along with cosy chairs strewn with cushions in burgundy and navy blue. The enormous room is roughly the size of a football pitch, and has three separate floors to it, each one containing more shelves of books, and everything is accented in the same dark wood as the floor, from the shelving to the twisted wood columns framing each shelf and corner.

To the furthest wall, an ornately carved spiral staircase winds from the bottom floor all the way to the top, and scattered across the expanse of the floor are large wooden frames holding globes mapping different worlds from galaxies in the furthest reaches of the universe. Some of the frames even hold massive glass spheres etched with charts of stars which are illuminated from within, creating glowing constellations all over the room. Rose reaches out to touch the smooth curve of one, and as she pulls back, she examines the intricate detail of the stars reflected on her palm, then smiles wide when she notices that there are constellations all over her body.

There are also several intricate four-sided clocks with innumerable hands and wheels which are measuring time from slices of planets all over the cosmos. Perched on the ledge between the first and second floors is an enormous clock about ten feet tall that consists of more than twenty different hands showing even more times and measurements. The clock itself is open so that one can walk behind it and see a myriad of gears reeling through it. 

Rose walks slowly around, trailing her fingertips across any surface she approaches, finding it all completely tactile, down the touch of cloth and leather of the covers on the books, along with their dusty, aged scent. There are several tables with low lamps for reading, the largest of which has stacks of books strewn about, some of them lying open. Most of the books are in Gallifreyan but Rose recognises several Earth languages as well. She gathers that this is the Doctor’s desk- where he comes when he needs to solve a problem or retrieve a memory--- those times he’s running about all manic, ploughing his hands through his hair, and talking a million miles an hour. The books all along the walls are constantly shifting, reshuffling, and others are re-shelved haphazardly as though by magic, causing a constant flurry of motion throughout the entire space. Rose can only imagine what her very cross school librarian would have said about all of this.

Stretching from the many alcoves are hallways leading in every direction, leading to stairways, which lead to yet other hallways and more stairways, infinitely branching off--- connecting, multiplying, and splitting off again. All of these would of course overlap if not within the Doctor’s mind, but since these are his rules, all bets are off. Each hallway stretches so far she can’t see the end, and each one has a door every few feet--- inside containing the Doctor’s memories. Every few seconds, a door in one of the hallways slams shut audibly and another somewhere else opens.

Rose notices that one hallway in particular is not brightly illuminated like the others--- this one is dark and cast in red. She is immediately cognizant of what that particular hallway holds, especially considering that she feels the Doctor’s mental alerts start firing the second she looks at it, as if her presence anywhere near it could douse the glow of her warmth, and fear grips him in icy shards the instant she comes close to it. She doesn’t linger, and feels his relief as she moves away.

Finally, she looks straight up and gasps. From the top floor and arching upwards, the surface that should have been a ceiling isn’t actually a surface at all. It begins as painted stars over inky black at the edges, spanning towards the center, but then brushstrokes quickly blend and fade into the night sky. Swirling stars and distant galaxies actually move, spiraling into eternity, reminding Rose of Van Gogh’s _ Starry Night. _

Branching off from the main space of the library, there are numerous other rooms. Rose enters the closest one to find herself standing in what looks like a gallery, full of paintings. She approaches them in turn, reading the names etched in the gold plates at the bottom of each frame. Most of the names are written in both Gallifreyan and a secondary language, which Rose gathers is the native language of each person. The majority of the names are written in English: “Barbara Wright” and “Ian Chesterton,” are grouped together, along with a third nearby of a young girl. This one doesn’t have an English translation, and Rose figures out immediately that this is Susan, as it is only written in Gallifreyan. 

Rose moves on and passes Jamie McCrimmon, a dark-haired fellow wearing a kilt. Ah, _ that’s _ who he was pretending to be in Scotland. She stops when she comes across Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart. She speculates that he must have been very important, because his picture is nearly as large as Susan’s. She passes several others and is immediately drawn to a familiar face, but much younger than she knows. It is Sarah Jane. This one is also very large, with warm tones and bright lights cast onto it. She then comes to a dark-haired woman whose name is only in Gallifreyan and gathers that this is another person from home. These suspicions are all but confirmed when the painting of the woman changes to a painting of a different woman altogether- this one blond and a bit younger. Rose then notices that each painting morphs into another image of that person, similar to those electronic picture frames you have on your nightstand but never actually turn on.

She passes more, a Tegan, a Leela, and a young boy whose name is translated into a language that doesn’t look to belong to Earth. Passing more, she scans the paintings of Nyssa, Ace, Lucie, Grace, Charlotte, and Cinder.

Finally, Rose stops dead at a very large, very beautiful painting of herself near paintings of Mickey, Martha, Donna, and Jack. Her own image is framed in beautiful light wood, accented with gorgeous roses made of cherry wood inlaid into the grain. Below, it says her _ full _ name; _ Rose Marion Tyler _ , along with its Gallifreyan equivalent. The painting itself has an ethereal quality, and it is highlighted by warm lighting and something that seems to be making it glow from within. The Rose that looks back at her shows her biggest smile, probably taken from a moment she was laughing at something he said. Around the painting itself are hundreds of _ real _ pink and yellow roses that smell stronger than any rose she’s ever smelled in her life. It is like a shrine--- and Rose is completely humbled as she wipes tears away that threaten to roll down her cheeks.

Rose eventually moves to the next room, where she discovers paintings of all of the Doctor’s past selves. The paintings are showing scenes from each respective Doctor’s life, similar to the paintings in the last room. In the first, the young sandy-haired boy he had shown her a few minutes ago grows and changes into an old man, walking arm in arm with Susan on a distant world. His second regeneration plays a recorder and shows much sillier qualities as he smiles, but then displays his consistent ferocious anger towards injustice as he argues with a third party. His third body is caped and suave, rides in a yellow car with Sarah Jane, and is seen joking with the Brigadier. His fourth with his a long scarf is shown wearing one of those huge collars, then running from some Daleks with the blond Gallifreyan woman from the painting in the other room. His fifth, with his brilliant smile and youthful energy, hugs a group of friends. The Doctor with the ridiculous coat is seen yelling angrily at a council of Time Lords, and the following Doctor puts his arm reassuringly around Ace, who is wielding a baseball bat. The longer-haired Doctor with the Edwardian getup morphs into a much more battle-worn version of the same face, shorter hair, and wielding the very sonic screwdriver Rose’s Doctor had found in his pocket that morning.

At this point Rose reaches a much smaller painting that looks to be wedged carelessly between the paintings of the curly-haired, soft-featured Doctor, and the next one which happens to be of her leather clad version of him. This unimpressive painting is not even remotely decorated or embellished, has no frame, and hangs crooked on the wall. It is cast in greys and oranges, and depicts a man turned around, walking away on a dusty red-orange planet. He’s walking endlessly as each image changes to one similar to the last, and is carrying a large brown sack slung over his shoulder, moving towards a very distant hut with a thatched roof. Rose comes closer, and feels herself eerily drawn to it---as if she is bound to it for some reason, bound to this moment. Like a magnet, she can’t pull herself away, as if by nature it is part of her, part of who she is. She feels a warning from the Doctor, as if it’s not supposed to be in this place at all, and she feels his shame bubbling to the surface, about to break.

“_YOU ARE THE DESTROYER OF WORLDS!” _ Davros’ voice echoes mercilessly through Rose’s head, and she characteristically needs to comfort that battered old man, to hold his hand firmly in her own.

_ “DOCTOR!” _She screams. He keeps walking away. 

She tentatively reaches out to touch, as if she can transmit her blinding compassion from her fingertips into the paint itself. She feels more warning signs emanating from the Doctor as back in the real world he tenses, and his arms, which are now clamped around her, become rigid. Sweat forms on his forehead, which is now pressed against hers. She _ HEARS _ the dual heartbeat of his Time Lord signature pounding through her ear canals as if it is her own but she can’t stop. She touches the ridged texture of the brushstrokes, flattening her palm against the swirling colours. Her hand trembles at contact.

Shuddering violently, the Doctor pulls away, withdrawing from her mind, forcefully rejecting her from his. The shock from him expediting her retreat stuns her like an explosion that has overtaken her synapses, and when Rose comes to, she finds him on the floor on all fours panting like an injured animal, his eyes wide in a violent paroxysm that has him quaking with terror. She immediately surrounds him with her body, draping herself tightly over his shoulders. He brings his arm up to block her and retreats into himself.

He screams into his closed mouth, lips pressed together--- the sound reverberating, face turning purple, and his eyes squeezing shut. “_NO!!!! _ DON'T...... TOUCH ME! No, Rose, I ruin _EVERYTHING!!!!!!_ I’ll...destroy…. _ everything _ ! You, this world, everything. It’s just what I _ do _…...what I’ve done for centuries!!!” 

He looks up at her in absolute anguish, finally meeting her eyes. He collapses into tears, white hot sobs tearing through his chest, wet trails overflowing down his face and he’s heaving and breathing in great gasps. His torment comes out in an audible rasping every time his lungs expel air.

His voice is shaking and his hands try to grip the floor as though he might fall off the surface of the Earth, fingertips going white. 

“He wasn’t _ supposed _ to be in that hall, Rose. He doesn’t belong there. _ Please _ believe me. He wasn’t even supposed to be there when I showed you myself a little while ago. I have tried.....to hide him for _ SO...... _long.” 

Rose is horror-struck by the fact that she can’t find him. Her Doctor, her Time Lord with the confident swagger, easy smile, and know-it-all air has all but disappeared in this moment, leaving nothing more than a terrorised, deeply vulnerable human being who doesn’t know himself. 

“Rose, He’s _ WASN’T _ the Doctor! _ I couldn’t stop him. _ I _ CAN’T _ stop him!! The other me was right. I am _ blood, anger, and revenge _…..” He stands on shaky legs and staggers into the bathroom.

_ “DOCTOR!” _

Rose is crying herself now, and she stands to go in behind him, but when she reaches the ensuite she finds that he’s locked the door to the toilet. 

“Doctor! Doctor, _ please let me in. PLEASE. _I’m begging you. Let me help you,” she pleads through her tears, as her voice melts into sobs.

She can hear wracking, convulsive cries equally from him, leaving his body in between his breaths.

“Rose, you _can’t_ fix me. No one can….”

“I’m not _ tryin' _to fix you. Nobody ever gets fixed, Doctor. Not completely… But you said ‘_I could spend it with you.' _ That means we face things _together. _ _ Please _ let me in. Please.”

No response.

“Spending our lives together includes relying and trusting each other enough to not go through hell alone, yeah? Doctor, you said ‘_together_.’”

More silence, just heaving breaths coming out in painful sighs.

“You’re having a panic attack. I have _ been _ where you are. Please let me help you face this. Trust me enough to help you. Have _faith_ in me, Doctor.”

_ I’ve seen fake gods and bad gods and demigods and would-be gods! And out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just ONE thing, I BELIEVE IN HER!!! _

His own words echo in his head as he remembers the time he really did face evil in the pit, and how he acted on blind faith alone that day. HER.

The lock clicks open.

Rose enters to see him down on all fours by the toilet, retching, but nothing comes up. His stomach lurches in agony nonetheless.

“I think I’m dying….. I killed them all, Rose. I deserve to die. I killed for centuries. I devastate _ everything _ and _ everyone _ I touch. I will destroy you, I will ruin your whole life. I _ HAVE _ destroyed your life. You’re only in this universe because of me. If you hadn’t met me, Rose....I shouldn’t exist! I’ll kill everyone at UNIT.”

He holds out his hands, outstretching his fingers. He’s kneeling and hunched over. “I can’t feel my limbs!! What is happening? Why can’t I feel my face and my lips?” He drags his hands down his face.

The immediacy of the situation is nothing foreign to Rose, thanks to her Torchwood/UNIT training, however since it’s _ him _\--- the person she loves more than life--- the solution is only apparent to her now. She all of a sudden instinctively knows how to calm him, so she she sits on the floor and holds his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to his. 

Channeling everything she has in her, she forces her mind open in the way he has shown her, and silently asks entry to his. He lets down his barriers instantly, and she then projects her love, pushing it outwards and pouring her soul into him, enveloping him in steadfast waves. It washes over him like water from a hot spring, flooding into the recesses of the fractures in his soul. She _ FEELS _ his pain and she quiets it with her hands brushing over his skin. She feels his heartbeat slow and his breathing relax as his neurons are flooded with oxytocin. As she scatters kisses over his eyelids and cheekbones, he curls himself into her, wrapping his arms around her back, and puts his head on her chest, listening to her heart. 

“Doctor, you’re having a panic attack and you’re just not used to it in a human body. You only have one heart to handle your feelings, and no respiratory bypass to prevent hyperventilation. When you were a full Time Lord I’m sure you were able to cope better. I am so, so sorry. M’ sorry that I touched the painting. Breathe, Doctor. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow. Listen to me do it. The tingling will stop. It's the lack of oxygen when you breathe too shallow that's causin' it.”

He listens to her breathing and follows her instructions. After about 5 slow, steady breaths his tingling starts to dissipate. She strokes his face, wiping the tears from his eyes with her thumb. She rocks him slow and nuzzles his forehead.

“That’s it. Doctor, listen to me. _ I love you. _ You are _ MINE_. And I am _ YOURS_. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. I told you I would stay with you forever….you are all I want. Breathe with me, Doctor. Feel my heart beating. Feel my hands on you. Feel my breath in your hair. Do you remember when we saved that little girl, Chloe, during the Olympics? And when we saved the people from the TVs? How we saved them all that day that everybody lived? How did that feel? Remember how happy we felt when we were reunited every time we got separated. D’you have it?”  
  


“Yeah. I do. Felt brilliant.”

“Good, hold onto that, an’ stand up. Hold onto that and remember.”

She finally gets him to stand, impressed at her own strength. 

Rose helps him to the sofa, where he lays down and puts his head on a cushion, and he scoots back to make room for her. She presses herself to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him, and covering them with a blanket. They are nose to nose, looking straight into each other’s eyes. She places her hand on his cheek and strokes him with her fingertips. She caresses his hair and his ear. He closes his eyes and leans into the contact.

His eyes give away everything---they're bloodshot and the salty trails of tears branch below his eyes. He is raw. Scraped and gutted.

“_I love you_. Nothing you tell me could _ EVER _ change that. I know _ everything _ , Doctor. I have known for awhile. I will admit I didn’t know the full extent of it but I put together most of it. Doctor, you _ HAD. NO. CHOICE. _ You did what was best for the universe. No one would be here now if you hadn’t. I'm sorry I touched the painting.”

He whispers, barely audibly, “It's not your fault. You were just doing what Rose Tyler is programmed to do. And.....it's like I don’t even remember the details of it. I just remember doing it.”

She strokes his hair. She remembers how she did this to the alternate him, in that pocket universe. She remembers that day like a white hot point--- like a magnetic chasm she can’t escape. She had crumpled to her knees in the street that day, suddenly wishing she really had fallen into the void at Canary Wharf. She had thought there was no escape from that reality--- nothing that could pull her from the gravitational collapse of her entire universe. Just like Krop Tor. She hadn’t wanted to leave him either time, even though she had thought him gone. It was Pete- _ Dad _\- who had finally convinced her over the signal of their walkie-talkies.

_ “It’s not him, love. Come home.” _

Her heart is pounding at the memory that caused her own trauma, coupled with the anguish of losing him in the first place.

He’s quiet for several minutes as she strokes his face and hair. Finally, he speaks. “I wanted to let you see me. I wanted you to know me. I didn’t know that _ that _ part of me would make himself so apparent.”

“But Doctor, you are still strong. Don’t ever think you’re not. Remember what I told you this morning. _ We deserve this. _ You did what you needed to do. That man is _ STILL _ the Doctor. He is still mine. His hearts belong to me, no matter how much you think they don’t deserve to. And I would have loved him just as much.”

His tears are flowing again when all of a sudden he pulls her in with a passion she’s never felt from him. He’s clawing at her and he brings his mouth to hers, opening slightly, his lips sliding firmly across hers. He outstretches telepathic contact. Rose lets him in, reaches out to meet him, enveloping his soul. He kisses her in his tears, opening his mouth, stroking her lips with his tongue, and in his head he sees the golden eyes open, as the Rose made of light turns into a howling wolf. 

The kiss becomes needy and he pulls her closer, firmer to his body, his hands grasping and going into her hair as his mouth glides over hers. The wet slide of his tongue moves along the seam of her mouth, and she opens to him. She repeats the maddening display of just how much control she has over him--- she holds her open mouth to his, gripping the sides of his face, letting the tension and passion build before she allows him to fully kiss her again. She runs her tongue along his lips and he feels that he is going to break. Abruptly, and in characteristic inability of any measure of patience, he sits up and pulls his shirt off. He then pulls her up so that he can rid her of her top, and once their torsos are both bare, he climbs on top of her and begins lavishing her breasts with his mouth. He squeezes and kneads them as his open mouth takes in as much of her as he can of one, and his tongue firmly circles her nipple, tracing a pattern over each bud in turn. Rose cries out and the sound goes straight to his groin, making him harder than he already was. 

He sits up on his knees, hooking his thumbs over the waistband of her pyjama pants, and he pulls them off along with her knickers. Lying down beside her, his fingers waste no time finding her folds, as they stroke across her heat, circling her where she is already ready for him. Sliding his digits over her, he groans to feel just how wet she already is. Then he walks his body downward, stopping to scatter kisses across her stomach. He brings his mouth down to the inside of her thigh, kissing upward, pulling on her skin and sucking lightly, enough to leave a trail of marks. One kiss after another, he works his way up to the apex of her thighs. The anticipation of where he is headed makes Rose’s hips involuntarily thrust upwards, and he then runs his tongue across her skin. Her arousal reaches his nostrils, and he groans, finally bringing his mouth to where she wants him. With the flat of his tongue, he licks up over her excruciatingly slowly. 

_ “Oh god.” _Rose lets out a cry, then starts trembling.

He husks out, _ “I love you, Rose.” _And she hears it both from his voice and inside her mind.

He sits up once again, taking the rest of his clothes off, then gets down on the floor kneeling towards the sofa, grabbing her hips and turning her so that her bum is just barely over the edge. Placing his hands on the insides of her thighs, he parts her legs, spreading them wide, and he runs his tongue up her once again. He then pushes it into her entrance, lapping, tasting the rush of moisture that greets him. 

Rose is at a vantage point at this moment where half of her torso rests on the back of the couch, so she is propped up and able to watch his mouth. He looks up at her, making eye contact as he moves his mouth over her, and Rose thinks that it is the most erotic thing she’s ever seen. He strokes the tip of his tongue up and down each side of her folds in turn, circles the perimeter of her entrance, then finally moves to her over-swollen centre. She moans, long and low, and his tongue starts moving firmly, creating tight, furious circles over her tiny bundle of nerves. When he brings his lips down and sucks on her, pulling her into his mouth, Rose is hanging on by a thread that is being pulled tighter and tighter. The first two fingers of his right hand push inside her heat and set up a rhythm immediately, pistoning in and out as his tongue works her. 

As Rose approaches climax, her hips start thrusting upwards harder and her hands go into his hair, gently pulling him into her with each thrust. His right arm circles behind her leg, pulling her hip as tightly to him as he can, while his other hand reaches up, and he cradles her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, gripping and stroking her jaw like she is the most precious thing on earth and he can’t ever let go. Rose moans again, deep and drawn out for each orbit of her hips as she grinds against his mouth.

He pulls away suddenly and she nearly sobs.

_ “Come for me Rose.... Come for me, love. I want to hear you, _” she hears him speak again simultaneously with her ears and in her mind.

He replaces his mouth, pulling her skin back into him, sucking fixedly but being gentle nonetheless, his tongue making concentrated strokes over her, and Rose is done. He makes eye contact again, then pulls away slightly so that she is able to see his tongue work over her.

The repeated pulsation of her climax causes her to tremble, and she cries out in a loud, wailing staccato that thanks him for worshipping her body. Before she even finishes the last tremors, he pulls her hips down off the edge of the sofa and sheaths himself up into her in one deep stroke, immediately setting up a rhythm. Her back rests against the sofa and as soon as she’s able, she kisses him hard, her tongue claiming dominance, even through the last tremors of her orgasm. His hands go to the sides of her face and neck, and he projects into her mind everything he’s feeling physically. He shows her how tight and wet she feels, and how incredible it is to be within her body. Rose quickly clears the fog from her mind and does the same--- showing him how it feels to have him push into her, stretching the muscles at her entrance. She shows him how it is to have him fill her, how it feels as she grips him from the within, creating pressure deep inside her. She projects her unconditional love and shows him that he is all she will ever need, all she will ever want.

_ “Oh…..Rose. I need you. I need you so much. Don’t ever leave me,” _he sobs and his mouth latches onto one of her breasts as the other squeezes its twin. 

This unique positioning to where he is simultaneously hitting her at her deepest point, grinding against her, and his mind buried deep within hers has Rose already chasing a second climax, and she lays her head and her shoulders onto the sofa, and the Doctor pulls back so that he can _ watch _himself enter her. He pulls out all the way, then slides back in excruciatingly slowly, over and over, as he watches his girth disappear within her.

_ “I will never leave you, my Doctor. I love you. I need you.” _She continues to speak aloud and within his mind as he drives into her.

Rose uses the leverage of his shoulders to pull herself back up, and her hands tangle into his hair, pulling him close as she kisses him. She tugs his tongue into her mouth and starts moving her hips urgently upon him, widening her legs and opening to take him deeper. He kisses her back with equal ardor and thrusts up into her, cradling her head, stroking her face. His thrusts are firm and deep but the tenderness of his touch has no parallel.

They’re both crying out, one voice simultaneously with each deep thrust, both out loud and within their link. Rose projects her voice only inside his head this time, because she refuses to take her mouth from his lips and as her hands grasp frantically at his head and face.

_ Doctor. You feel so good…. So good. I can’t exist without this. I was made for this, we were made to have this together. _

The Doctor is blindsided. She shouldn’t be capable of what she just did this early. She has spoken into his mind without needing to say it out loud. Since he knows she is ready, he strengthens their link further, bringing more of the branching roots of his soul to wrap securely around hers, bonding them tighter. Their twin souls meld together a bit more. 

He shows her their joined timeline, stretching out in a golden streak through the years. Seeing time visually laid out before her, she is brought to tears. She feels like she has been starved from this, even though it is the first time she is even experiencing it. Their connection deepens, solidifies, and back in the real world, his thrusts become short and desperate. Her hips move against him with equal enthusiasm.

Was it really just since this morning that they were like this? She squeezes him from the inside, and he moves his hands from their tender caress on her head, onto her hips where he isn’t capable of being nearly so gentle. He pulls her hips urgently upon him, hard and fast as he pushes up into her, filling every inch of her, and two sets of grunts and sighs of pleasure echo off the walls. He watches as she throws her head back as she comes, crying out with his name on her lips. Everything is in slow motion for him, as a split second after he feels the staccato of the fluttering contraction from her inner walls, he empties inside her, each spasm feeling better than the last. He holds her to him, continuing his thrusts until they become slow and languid, savoring every second he can be inside her.

Rose wraps her arms around his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, and he pulls her tight to her. Still unable to speak, they converse in the way that comes so naturally to them that they can’t believe there was a time when it didn’t exist.

_ You are heaven. _

_ So are you, my Doctor. _

Eventually, the Doctor reaches behind him to the box of tissues conveniently placed on the coffee table, and he pulls out of her and aids her in cleaning herself up. They manage to get themselves to the bed, where they sink under the covers and into each other as they listen to the rain, which has now turned to sleet hitting the windows until it lulls them both to sleep. They maintain telepathic contact, not really speaking, but just opening themselves to allow the other to relish in the connection and the warmth of the feelings the other projects.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, Rose feels his lips moving across her belly, his mouth tugging at her skin as he moves upward, and he’s caressing every inch of her that he can reach. Rose comes to, waking when she feels the force of his arousal, and it immediately ignites hers. In ecstatic bliss, he kisses across the expanse of her chest, up her neck, and finally up to her mouth for a kiss that tows him under a tidal wave of need. He sinks within her and they move together as one body, making love languorously as the snow outside falls.


	9. What's Simple is True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist tracks:  
"What's Simple is True" ~ Jewel  
"No Other Way" ~ Paolo Nutini (Elialys is to blame for my current obsession with him)
> 
> Sorry this one took so long, the holidays were crazy, for you too I'm sure. This chapter is much lighter and a little bit shorter than the other ones, plus we get into the adventure!
> 
> Thanks to my fangirl pals for all the encouragement. Love you all.

You turn to me with frozen lips  
Your hands are icy cold  
Your eyes burn bright against the frost-bit sky  
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight

Pale on the horizon

  
Like leaves frozen in the snow  
Our two shadows merge inseparably  
Will time stand still if it's pierced with cold

The more I live  
The more I know

  
What's simple is true  
_I love you_

There's a warmth in my heart  
It haunts me when you're gone  
Mend me to your side and never let go  
Say time knows nothing, we'll never grow cold

The more I live  
The more I know  
What's simple is true  
_I love you_

Twilight descends on our silhouette  
How soon spring comes  
How soon spring forgets  
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin

Old man winter be our friend  
Old man winter be our friend  
Cause the more I live  
The more I know what's simple is true  
What's simple is true

_I love you....._

_______________________________

Rose awakens the next morning to a room of pure white. Opening her eyes a crack, the crescent of light invades her pupils, and she squints towards the window, letting her eyes adjust. She sees that fresh snow is coating all the branches on the trees outside, clinging to them wetly and falling off in clumps, and huge icicles are hanging off the eaves from the roof. Several inches of snow lies on the ground all around the inn, and the sun shines overhead in a cloudless sky. Right about the time Rose thinks she’s died and gone to heaven, complete with naked Doctor sleeping with his head on her chest and arms wrapped around her, the phone rings, breaking the glow of the moment.

Since the Doctor is the one closest, he groans, rolls over, and reluctantly answers it.

“mmmmello?”

“Doctor Mar-shunn!! So nice to hear you! I am calling to let you know your zeppelin has arrived!”

He opens his eyes, his brow furrowing,“Wh…...it has? Seriously?”

“Jaaaa, it is the one with ‘Vitex’ written across it in big letters, is it not? You knoooow it’s kind of obvious.” He snorts, laughing.

Rose of course overhears, groaning, shoving her face into her pillow. “Oh, _ noooooo _ . They’ve sent _ that _ one.”

“Yes, that’d be the one. Thank you. We’ll be ready shortly.”

He hangs up before the concierge seizes the opportunity to engage him in any more awkward conversation and he rolls back over, encircling Rose’s waist and pulls her back down against him. He begins covering her neck with open-mouth kisses, placing his hand on her bum and pulling her close. Having already had him awaken her in the middle of the night to make love once again, the uncomfortable twinge between Rose’s thighs stands as a reminder of all the recent (and vigorous) activity, so she diverts him, considering it will soon be time to check out if they are to leave today.

“Doctorrrrr……. we gotta go. I wanted to put in some laundry.”

He whimpers, pouts, but in recompense she kisses his lower lip, which is jutting out dramatically. She pushes it back in with her finger and kisses him again.

_ “I love you,” _she says into his mind. It’s almost automatic now.

He projects again, and the cascade returns, and she’s falling, simultaneously swept under by force and by her own free will. She’s been realising in the last few days that she’s never felt this before--- so _ needed _, by anyone. She basks in it, nuzzling his cheek and stubble that is forming there, listening to his breathing, and the steady thud of his heartbeat. The sureness of it, the weight and the reality that it exists solidify, as though it is pumping through her veins as well. 

She reluctantly pulls back, remembering that they need to get things in order, lest she decide to sod it all and spend the day in bed.

“M’ gonna go put some laundry in n’shower, ok? You can come too if you promise to behave, we don’t have much time.”

“Me? Behave? What little you think of me, Rose Tyler.”

She smiles fondly, shaking her head.

She gets up, wrapping the dressing gown at the foot of the bed around herself and walks over to the window. Sure enough, the massive zeppelin with “Vitex” written across it in huge letters is floating over to the left in the distance. Rose rolls her eyes.

After putting in a quick load of laundry, setting the machine to both wash and dry, she enters the ensuite, taking off her dressing gown, turning on the water and stepping under it. Letting the heat ease her shoulders and closing her eyes, she hears the glass door open and close, and she smiles. 

“Was hopin’ you wouldn’t take long.”

The Doctor pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her, and they both sigh contentedly. All of a sudden, he scoops her up and pins her to the shower wall, lifting her up and coaxing her legs around his waist. He kisses her as though she’s been away for a week. Her mouth opens to his automatically, and she wraps her arms securely around his neck, coming back to grip his face, pulling him closer, then running her hands through his hair as the water thoroughly wets it. She hums softly in the back of her throat, which goes directly to his groin. He’s panting-- slow, deep kisses as water sluices down their bodies, droplets fanning across their skin, and he finds that within a couple of seconds, he can’t hide his desire once again. 

"Rose, thank you. For last night. I never said....."

She silences him with another passionate kiss, having swiftly changed her mind about being too sore (and also that they’re out of time), is finding that _ she _ is the one projecting her need, but her concern shows through before she can stop it leaking from her mind. Having a telepathic partner definitely has its pros and cons, she is finding.

He feels it immediately and begins to pull back, and sets her down, but she pulls him back down again, and she descends her hand down his stomach, cupping him as he lets out a groan.

“A girl can change her mind, Doctor.”

His eyes squeeze shut as she strokes him and he brings his hands up to brace himself against the wall, then opening his eyes a crack to watch her hand move over him. She ducks down then, kissing lower and lower on his stomach, across the soft hairs of his lower abdomen, finally taking him into her warm mouth. The Doctor’s legs nearly turn to jelly, as she simultaneously strokes him with her hand and she makes slow circles over the tip with her tongue. 

The Doctor cups her face, running his hands through her wet hair as she runs her tongue up and down, concentrating on the underside, as she takes more of him into her mouth, firmly gripping his backside with her other hand.

He leans further against the wall, struggling to stay upright, and he starts to moan, then forces his eyes open so that he can look down and watch.

“Ohhh….Rose that’s…..that’s amazing. I’m not gonna last. _ Blimey, I love you _. And I’d love for you to keep going, but please, stand up. This isn’t what I need right now.”

He frames her face, bringing her back up to him, and he lifts her up once again, letting his desire translate through their connection, allowing it to click into place, and she is just as ready as he is. She wraps her legs around his waist, and settles himself within her folds, and Rose intakes breath sharply, sending him waves of reassurance.

He presses his forehead against hers, and brings them together slowly, allowing his legs and the wall both to support her. He pushes into her with just the right amount of pressure, letting her feel filled, allowing herself that wonderful ache just from the pressure deep inside. With a combination of deep, gentle strokes and with languid kisses and _ I love yous _, the soreness Rose was worried about melts away. His hands slide across her body, up and down her sides, framing her face, burning trails across her skin, bursts of his gorgeous telepathic signature flickering beneath her eyelids. She returns it, golden light pulsing into his head, and her soothing presence encourages him to move within her with more urgency--- gradually faster, pressing his hips into her to give her that grinding friction she craves. Suddenly it is all she needs, that exquisite sliding and clinging where they are joined. 

This along with the strength of their mental connection, they reach climax together in a matter of minutes, that deep burn building steady. It overflows, fanning out like a brush fire, engulfing everything, and they both cry out together in release, and he finally collapses as they sink slowly down the wall in a tangled heap, wrapped together, clinging to one another.

They sit together on the shower floor, and she keeps her legs wrapped around his waist, water cascading down them. He finally is able to speak, his shoulders still rising and falling.

“Is it…..always going to be like this?” 

“What’d you mean, Doctor? Like what?”

“Like this. Like….I can’t keep….. like my entire body is on fire.”

He pulls back, looking into her eyes.

“My heart…. everything. This is so unnatural for me. Time Lords aren’t _ supposed _ to feel like this. And I mean, it was like this before, but not like…. _ this. _ I wanted to be with you all the time but this is different. I’ve never…... and after last night, it’s even stronger. You’ve been in my mind. You’ve seen everything……………..you’ve seen my soul, Rose. I just never knew……”

She’s got tears in her eyes again and she smiles. “I dunno, I’ve never felt like this either, Doctor. With you it’s….different. _ So _ different. You’re patient, and it’s like even if we didn’t have the mental connection you would still be completely in tune with what I want. And then the telepathic connection makes everything all the more intense. I’ve always considered myself an empath but actually _ knowing _ how you feel and what you want is…...humbling, really.”

She pulls him down, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rocks him slow, allowing both of their heart rates to return to normal, and he finally softens within her. Their heads are full of oxytocin and they both luxuriate in it, letting the warm rays wash over them.

Finally he stands and pulls her up, and they take turns washing one another’s hair and body, pausing periodically for tender kisses.

After their shower, they pack up, taking one last look at the room where everything had changed between them. That rug and that fireplace. The bed. The sofa. And the ensuite. Rose’s sad expression spurs him to squeeze her hand, and he bends down and kisses her nose.

“I’m going to kind of miss it too,” he says.

Just then, Rose’s phone rings. She answers and hears Pete on the other end.

“Hello, love...did the zeppelin get there?

“Yeah, Dad. It did. We’re just getting ready to board. What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to let you know there’s another system coming in tonight so it’s best if you leave Scandinavia altogether. There’s supposed to be high winds and rain turning to sleet again.”

“But….we were going to head to Iceland....”

Pete interrupts her, “....honestly, love, it’s best if you don’t. That’s the other reason I called. Rose, Nathalie is missing.”

Rose looks like someone has just slapped her. 

“......what? When…...what’d you mean she’s missing? How can she be missing?”

“She hasn’t been seen in three days. She was on assignment somewhere in Brittany and she never reported back. Her fiancé is really worried. We need you to go to France. Head to Paris first, and await orders when you get there. There is a team of you being dispatched but some are currently further away than others. I’m sending you the details now, your laptop is on the zep.”

“Ok, we’re on our way. God, I have to call Guillaume. He must be losing his mind.”

“Rose…..there’s something else. Two very large pieces of art have been stolen from the Louvre. You might as well check it out since you’re going there anyway. We aren’t ruling out the possibility of a connection considering these two things are happening at the same time and both have abnormal circumstances. When you see the size of the pieces of art, you’ll understand why. I’m sending that information to you as well.”

“Okay, we should be in Paris in a day or two.”

“Rose, don’t go over the North Sea, go over land by way of Oslo, Copenhagen, and Amsterdam. The winds are too high otherwise. There’s a setting on the zep for land-only routes, and you’ll find all that in the binder on the table.”

They say goodbye, and Rose hangs up the phone, visibly shaken. The Doctor puts his hand on her arm.

“Rose, who’s Nathalie?”

“Nathalie Le Guirec. She’s from the Paris division of UNIT, and she’s a friend. We’ve worked together several times, she and her fiancé and I. Went to Morocco recently. Wonder what she was doing out in Brittany...her family’s from out there.”

The Doctor walks over to the large television, grabbing the remote control and switching it quickly to a news channel, where they see sweeping camera shots flying over the glass pyramid of the Louvre flicker past.

He listens, then translates from Norwegian without missing a single word: 

“Two of the most famous pieces of art in the world are missing tonight. One, the painting called _ Liberté Guidant le Peuple _ , and the other is the _ Winged Victory of Samothrace _. Police are baffled how this could have happened tonight, as the sheer size of each piece along with the security measures in place would make the robbery virtually impossible. We are still following this story and will bring you updates as it unfolds.”

“So…..why these pieces? And why would someone steal them, knowing well that it would attract so much attention?”

The Doctor turns the television off, tossing the remote control back on the sofa. 

“Good questions, I think we better get to the zeppelin. I could be mistaken but I think we’re in for an adventure. Allons-y Rose Tyler!”

______________________________

“I’m not sure if I never want to see this place again or if I will actually miss it. It’s a very complicated emotion.”

A half hour later, Rose stands with the Doctor atop the cliff overlooking Bad Wolf Bay for the last time.

“I think, again, that the nature of this place’s name probably lends itself to both feelings, Rose. But it’s time we moved on.” 

He threads his fingers through hers, allowing her all the time she needs before she finally turns.

“It’s the last place I saw him. Well…. I see ‘him’ every day, and will continue to, but you know what I mean. It just feels….heavy.”

“I know, yes…….and it’s the last place I saw Donna. And I saw all my other friends inside that TARDIS just a few minutes prior to landing here. It will be bittersweet forever.”

She leans against him, placing her head on his shoulder. 

“I love you, Doctor.”

“I love you—-and so does _ he.” _

She squeezes him, takes his hand once again, and the head towards the zeppelin, which is hovering over them.

Rose grabs the drop-down number keypad, and is just about to punch in the combination when the Doctor whips out his large sonic screwdriver and aims it at the little device, automatically causing a set of metal stairs to extend down to the ground.

“Still works, lovely!” he chirps, grinning maniacally.

Rose rolls her eyes and giggles, starting up the stairs.

The space at the top is impressive, to say the least. It is elliptical in shape and slightly larger than the hotel room they’ve just left. There is a long table with several chairs, a kitchenette with wet bar, and a sofa. 

Rose walks over to the open binder lying on the table and begins flipping through it, when she hears the whirr of the sonic once again. A king-size bed opens down from inside what appears to be a wardrobe, and several other doors open to reveal a good portion of Rose’s own clothes from home. The other side opens to reveal men’s clothes, appearing all to be just about Doctor-sized. The Doctor puts their belongings into the wardrobe.

“Your mother. Remarkable woman, really. Eccentric, and a _ really _ bad cook…..but still remarkable. How did she do all this in that short amount of time?”

“Well she definitely is remarkable but she also has my dad’s Vitex staff plus the house staff to help.”

The Doctor opens the door in the back to find a toilet and a very standard shower stall, while Rose goes to the kitchenette to find that the staff have fully stocked the small fridge and pantry with food. The windows all around the room are placed at an angle so that one can see down, and there is even a large pane of thick glass in the middle of the floor, so that the ground can be seen through it as well. 

At the front of the vessel, there is a large touchscreen control panel where the destination for anywhere in the world can be entered and there are gauges to monitor pressure, helium level, speed, wind velocity, altitude, fuel level, and several others.

The Doctor comes up behind Rose, placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her around and putting his arms around her waist

“So….allons-y? Paris? Ha! This is the first time I’ll get to say that to you in the correct language for our location!” 

He does the tongue-click head wobble thing to illustrate his excitement for a proper adventure.

“Allons-y, mon cœur.” She gives him that gorgeous tongue-touched smile.

“Rose! You speak French?”

“I took it in school for several years. I only remember a little bit but hearing Nathalie speak it on the phone with her fiancé or with other UNIT personnel from Paris brought some of it back.”

Rose grabs the binder from the table and flips to the portion that tells how to set one’s destination. After a few beeps on the keypad, she sets the address for the Louvre, and the metal stairs come back up, the entire vessel lurching upwards as the motors begin to whirr. 

They’d be early to meet with the other agents since the rest are dispatched all over the world, but Rose figures they can explore and investigate once in the City of Light, since the last time she had been there she had gone to EuroDisney at age 12 with her gymnastics team.

“So, why would someone want to steal those two paintings?”

Rose sits at the table, opens her laptop and connects to the WiFi, and brings up pictures of both pieces on her computer. _ Liberté Guidant le Peuple _ pictures a French Revolutionary-era mob climbing over barricades and dead bodies, led by a large, very virile-looking woman in a red phrygian cap, the top of whose dress has been torn off. She’s waving the French tricolor flag and carrying a bayonet in the other hand. There is a young boy next to her, and Notre Dame de Paris is rising in the background in the smoke.

The Doctor looks at the picture with her, and explains, “This was done by a man called Eugène Delacroix. The real thing is about eight feet tall by ten feet wide. Now, the woman in the centre is Liberty, an allegory now synonymous with the French way of life. She’s leading the French people out of oppression after the monarchy had been restored following the first Revolution which began in 1789. She’s been known as Liberty and in some representations, she’s Marianne.”

He leans back in his chair, putting his hands up behind his head, outstretching his legs and plopping his trainers up on the table as he continues, “She’s even made it out of the country and was posted across the ocean to France’s ally and friend on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of _ their _ Revolution. And this other Liberty’s inner framework structure was designed by none other than Gustave Eiffel. Bet you can wager a guess what else he designed…..”

“Doctor! Feet down!” she whacks at his Chucks and he pouts, ceding.

“So, the Eiffel Tower, right? And the Statue of Liberty in New York….. but….look, Doctor, the other piece of art missing is this _ Winged Victory of Samothrace _. It looks like Liberty, minus the arms and the head, but add wings.”

“Yep!” He says, popping the ‘p,’....“An allegory.”

“I remember that from my literature classes in school.”

“Yes, this is a bit different as this allegory is a personification of an abstract idea--- it’s a physical allegory, not a literary one.”

“But it’s a statue and it’s massive! Dad was right, totally not normal, it’s got alien written all over it.”

“Weeeeeelll…….Doctor and Rose stuff, if you ask me.” He says, winking. 

Rose smiles at him, and continues to read: “The goddess of Victory, or Nike in Greek, is a Hellenistic statue from the second century. She is shown in the form of a winged woman standing on the bough of a ship, braced against the strong wind blowing through her garments. Her right hand was once cupped around her mouth, announcing the event she was dedicated to commemorate.”

Rose leans back in her chair, brow furrowing, “Whoever, or _ whatever _ stole these must’ve figured it would attract attention too, so it has to be alien and well enough hidden that no one would ever be able to find them using conventional means.”

“Beats me, but these are two of the most guarded pieces of art in the world. Nobody could just pack them up in their rucksack, unless you think like me and my people, of course.”

“So…. what’re you thinking? Shrinking, teleport?”

“Possibly, any one of those.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes, then continues, “Rose, tell me about this agent that is missing, will you?”

“Well, Nathalie started about a year ago. We’ve done several training exercises together and she helped with the Dimension Cannon. She has a scientific background, so she’d been helping to test it. She’s from the city of Nantes, but she has bounced between London and Paris for a long time. I just feel awful, and helpless. She and I were pretty close even though we hadn’t known each other long. She knows all about you.”

The Doctor stands and walks around, pacing and running his hands through his hair. He’s looking out the window, down at the ground when suddenly he gasps, grinning maniacally.

“Doctor, what’s wrong?” 

He pushes a button and the zeppelin stops with a lurch.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

“We have a few days before we need to be in Paris, Rose. Time for some fun. Get your coat!”

“Wh…..Doctor! What are you doing? We’re trying to figure out where Nathalie is!”

“Don’t look until you’re down the stairs!! We’re in Scandinavia, of course we have to do this! Just the thing to liven up the mood!” he says, making that high-pitched purring lilt, and continues, “Boy do I have a surprise for you, Rose Tyler!”

Rose finally reaches the bottom of the metal stairs and finds that she’s in a parking lot. She turns around to see what the Doctor has decided is apparently the most exciting place in this universe.

They are at_ IKEA. _

“Ready for a game of hide-and-seek? You’re it!!” And he bolts into the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I'm so grateful for your comments:)


	10. You Are the Best Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist tracks:  
"You Are the Best Thing"~ Ray LaMontagne  
"Amsterdam" ~Gregory Alan Isakov
> 
> Ok guys, I'm sorry. Life got crazy and I got swamped with work.  
I was also fiercely debating with myself and finally decided to cut this chapter down and put a good part of it in Chapter 11 because that is going to be a HUGE one with lots of details, and ....ahem...DETAILS. 😉
> 
> Again, thanks to all my fangirls for all the love and support, especially Ambre and Lindsay, who are privy to my rambling and whining every single day, and not necessarily concerning writing. I love you both.

Rose feels absolutely ridiculous. 

Irritated, humiliated, and ridiculous. She actually feels like she’s living someone else’s life, and not her own. It’s almost as though she’s watching a television programme--- one of those reality shows where people do idiotic things to get attention, but this one is all about herself and her completely mad existence.

One where she’s suddenly pulled from any stretch of normalcy, and somehow playing hide-and-seek in a department store with a human-Time Lord biological metacrisis from the planet Gallifrey--- in a secondary dimension from their own. 

Which, if she  _ really _ thinks about it, doesn’t sound  _ that _ far-fetched. It is  _ them _ , after all.

And reality shows are basically the definition of mental, so why not? Next they might as well try out for the X-Factor as a magician and his plucky assistant, where he locks her into a bigger-on-the-inside cabinet, whips out his sonic, and has the cabinet dematerialise on stage. Then he could saw her in half using the same principle, and another assistant's legs. Maybe this universe's Donna would be up to it. Then again, she'd be more likely to smack him, and it would be well-deserved. 

And, to add to the absurdity, is the fact that said alien is the person she’s currently…... erm...dating? Meh. Engaged to? Sort of, she supposes. Although that doesn’t quite cut it.  _ Not by a long shot.  _

Regardless, feeling like she’s on _Mork and Mindy_ meets _The_ _Great Race_ is the last thing she wants to do right now, given that there is some extremely important work to take care of, none of which includes looking under beds and inside wardrobes inside an IKEA department store in Bergen, Norway for her complete dunce life partner.

In the upstairs area of the building, which is full of model bedrooms, bathrooms, living rooms, and kitchens, Rose is really attempting to look casual. It’s probably just making her look more angry, storming around looking for that prat--- but who knew, really. 

In the background, there is the normal buzz of activity one would expect from a department store. Families mill about trying out furniture, kids are hitting each other with pillows, jumping on beds, and being told off by their mums, and men who look like they’d rather not be here are napping in armchairs. 

Employees are trying to put up Christmas decorations since it’s now the first day of November, which makes it officially the Christmas shopping season, and they are avoiding eye contact with customers so that they can finish their task and go eat their lunch. 

This is a typical Saturday, and Rose is stuck in the middle of it.

To add to the complexity of this situation, the upstairs is also basically a maze, winding from display to display all throughout the upper floor. Fortunately there are arrows on the ground, reflected from lights above to indicate the correct path, so that one has no trouble weaving through each individual display until they finally reach the stairs that lead down to the warehouse area.

Rose walks quickly through the path, sneaking around mattresses and employees, attempting to follow the arrows as best she can, and rounds a corner when she hears it. To her absolute horror, the very distant whirr of the sonic is just audible over the hum of the crowd. Predictably, since this is  _ her _ life after all, there is mass chaos that soon follows.

And Rose knows, as she has known for years, who is at the eye of the storm. 

Hurrying around another corner into the storage and shelving section, Rose realises quickly that no one knows where to go, owing to the fact that now the arrows are now pointing the other way, back in the direction the crowd had already been coming from. Confused people are milling about, scratching their heads, and an employee is radioing help to fix the malfunctioning arrow lights.

Suddenly, Rose hears it again, coming from the kitchen section, and she manages to turn her head fast enough, probably thanks to sheer instinct of knowing this nutter for so long. When she sees sparks flying from one of the overhead lights that project the arrows, she knows it’s only a matter of time until they end up in jail.  _ Again _ . 

And the fact that the Doctor has picked NOW to pull something like this makes Rose even angrier. Where they should be at this moment is back on the zeppelin, brainstorming how to approach the situation with Nathalie and the missing pieces of art, not here mucking about playing a child’s game. 

Who’s she even kidding, the Doctor  _ is _ a giant child--- every single incarnation of him.

_________

  
  


After an unsuccessful fifteen minutes of searching, looking casual is proving rather fruitless, and finally Rose’s competitive side---still left over from her gymnastics days--- is filtering out her irritation and getting the better of her, whether she’d like to admit it or not. The thrill of the chase is too tempting, regardless of which mad alien she happens to be after.

She finds that a few minutes later she is walking even more briskly, and a smile is soon creeping onto her face, the thrill of the adventure finally showing up. She’d never admit it, but he was actually right. They needed something fun to do (well..besides all the sex, of course), after the tumultuous events of…….really since…...how long has it even been? 

She reaches the kids’ section around the cots and other baby furniture, with its toddler beds and bean bag chairs, brightly-coloured rugs, stuffed toys, and fun beds with slides and a playhouse underneath. Searching each one (because she wouldn’t be surprised in the  _ least  _ to find him in one), she’s left discouraged.

She eventually walks under a loft bed to look under a desk and for a split second she is terrified to feel the entire structure trembling.  _ Do they even have earthquakes in Norway?? _ No…..it’s like someone is laughing  _ hysterically, _ above on the bed. She backs up to look on the top and notices there is a Doctor-shaped lump under the duvet, and the entire thing is absolutely quivering from his laughter.

“Get down, you git! You’re going to get us in trouble!” 

All of a sudden, he uncovers himself, takes a flying leap off of the top of the loft, landing with cat-like grace on both feet, and he takes off, his lanky legs flying behind him.

“You have to tag me first!!!!” he yells back to her. 

An employee gives her a dirty look and starts yelling at her in Norwegian, but Rose takes off after the Doctor. He runs through the kitchen section, then eventually down the stairs to the warehouse area. 

Once she turns the corner in the downstairs, she spots the last sliver of him turn into one of the long aisles far in the distance. She is incredibly grateful for her intensive Torchwood/UNIT training--- she used to have trouble keeping up with him but no longer. He can apparently still outrun her by a long shot but she’s apparently now able to at least have him in her sights.

Once she reaches the aisle where he had turned, she begins looking high and low behind boxes, mattresses, and pallets. She runs all the way to the very end of the aisle with no luck, so she figures he’s wriggled through to a neighboring aisle. Once she’s about to give up, a hand reaches out from behind the boxes, and yanks her into a narrow crack between pallets. 

She can’t see much of anything, but the hand continues to pull her back to where they can’t be spotted, and then he pulls her into him, covering her mouth with his, sinking his hands into her hair, and she’s immediately falling again. He connects with her telepathically and they’re at once in that place where nothing else exists, least of all the department store in which they’re hiding.

It’s like a rip tide anymore, grabbing her entire body and yanking her away from any and all capability to think about anything else but  _ this _ feeling. She feels that the surface of her skin is translucent, and that his essence seeps into her very being any time he touches her. She kisses him back with matching enthusiasm.

_ ...I made my choice a long time ago, and I’m never gonna leave you…. _

He scoops her up just as he had that morning in the shower, and lifts her on top of several boxes stacked on top of a pallet so that he is standing between her legs, and she pulls his mouth back to her, grasping at him as though he’ll dissolve away like ash, pulled back into the other dimension. His mouth opens and he lets out a soft groan, and she traces his lips with her tongue.

He sneaks his hands under her shirt, touching the bare skin of her back, caressing her up and down, leaving veritable flames in their wake, and unclasps her bra with admirable precision. His hands rake at her sides and reach back to her front, immediately lifting the garment out of his way, brushing his fingers across her already taut peaks and she lets out a very quiet moan. 

His hands are trembling as they come in contact with her skin, as her breasts fully fill his hands. He wonders once again as he touches her if it’s always going to feel like this, this aching drive. He shuts his mind down, calming his tremors, as he feels her mind merging slightly more with his, warning him that this is at once the most idiotic idea he’s ever come up with, and at the same time the most spectacular.

Her breath starts coming out ragged. Everything is in slow motion and that ache low in her belly starts to rage. She grasps at any part of him that will bring him closer, her fingers knot into his hair, the other hand winds around his back, holding him close.

“Doctor, we  _ can’t _ do this here,” she whispers as she wrenches herself away reluctantly, but he pulls her against him, lifting her shirt up so that his mouth can replace his hands, and her eyes squeeze shut in resignation to the inevitability that she can’t protest any more. His tongue does the work---circling, and kneading with his other hand. 

She lets out a groan a bit more loudly than she would like, and plunges her hand down to the noticeable straining in his trousers, and when she cups him, he is the one to vocalise his pleasure.

Quite fortunately, and before anything can progress further, a very angry Norwegian voice is yelling at them---the same one from upstairs---as the very cross woman attempts to peer in from one aisle over.

The Doctor pulls back, breathing heavily, and her eyes have adjusted enough to just make out his face.

“Any chance you could tell me more about Margaret Thatcher?” he pleads.

____________________________________

  
  


In retrospect, Rose really shouldn’t feel so guilty. They’d been kicked out of places before- even spent nights in jail on far-off planets. But getting kicked out of an IKEA while being the owner of a face that regularly appears on tabloid magazines is just plain embarrassing. It wasn’t enough that the Doctor had felt the need to propose a game of hide-and-seek...he had taken a flying leap off of that loft bed, then ran through the store,  _ AND _ had gotten handsy with his girlfriend….erm…..companion.....partner behind a bunch of pallets.

To complicate things, he had sonicked and hijacked a forklift-- a factor that also wasn’t working in their favour, even though he was in possession of a takeaway container of meatballs and a chaise lounge he intended to purchase. 

Terribly grateful that the police weren’t called after Rose had apologised profusely by explaining her companion’s insanity, they were able to get back in the zeppelin and return it to autopilot without any photos taken.

Rose remains quite silent as they sit together on the sofa watching Star Wars on the retractable screen against the wall. (She has no idea which one it is, honestly, and doesn’t really care.)

After having eaten some pre-made sandwiches they found in the fridge along with the meatballs the Doctor insisted on purchasing, Rose is seated at the table working on her laptop, researching the pieces of art that are missing, and the Doctor is on the sofa playing around with his sonic’s settings, trying to recall which ones are already programmed into this one and which aren’t. 

Rose has opened the dossiers that Pete had sent her when her ears….no,  _ mind…. _ detects something familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. 

“What?” 

The Doctor doesn’t look up. “I didn’t say anything.”

Rose thinks she is going mad, but she hears the voice again, and wonders if the Doctor is reaching out to her telepathically, at a distance from where he is across the room.

But she’s pretty sure that he isn’t….he’s still fiddling with the sonic and shoving crisps into his mouth, completely oblivious to anything else that is going on.

But there it is again...a voice, on the edge of her mind, just sitting there, prodding at the edges. Not saying actual words, but simply conveying a feeling. And the feeling is almost desperate...for  _ her.  _

Shaking her head, trying to rattle the voice out of her consciousness, Rose realises that the only way to figure it out is practice.

“Doctor?”

“Mmmm?”  _ *Crunch crunch crunch* _

“Can we practice more? With the telepathy? Like…..could you go into my mind?

His head snaps up immediately and he is visibly surprised, and also visibly quite touched. 

“You….would want me to, already?”

“Well ‘course, Doctor. I’ve been in yours. I’ve told you I wanted you to.”

He grins maniacally. “Absolutely! Yes, Rose, of course! But I want you to practice going into mine a bit more first, though, then we can try to open the door to yours.”

He stands, brushing the crumbs off of himself, wipes his greasy hands on his jacket, then grabs her hand and leads her over to the bed. 

They sit together in the middle and they resume the position where she’s sitting with her legs wrapped around his waist and their foreheads are pressed together. 

He kisses her tenderly, quite obviously elated at her request to practice.

Closing their eyes, Rose feels him once again at the back of her mind, and she surrenders to the now-familiar feeling that she’s on a pendulum. 

They reach the door once again, and she silently asks to enter, but before she can even finish the thought, he opens his mind and pulls her in.

She steps through into the library without hesitation. However, this time he’s inside waiting for her. He smiles huge and starts bouncing on the balls of his feet, and he takes her hand as they start to walk together.

“So, you’ve been in here already so you probably know all of this, but I still wanted to give you the basics. Those are my memories,” he says as he gestures towards the hallways leading out of the main room, its doors continuing to open and snap shut loudly.

“Yes, I gathered that. The way that they’re organised makes a lot of sense, actually. Like you can jus’ access them anytime you need to.”

“Yours will be organised in a similar manner once we’re within your mind, although we won’t know exactly what it will look like. And all the books along the walls are different things that I’ve gathered over the last 900 years. I’m constantly accessing them. If I can’t figure out of problem, I come in here mentally to search my mind for the answer.”

He veers off to the left and leads her back one of the hallways to see his memories. The Doctor opens the door and they both step in-- and find themselves in the middle of the action, so it seems. His fourth self is there, along with the dark-haired version of the Gallifreyan woman from the painting in his companion gallery.

“This was during my fourth life. You recognise the scarf I’m sure. And that’s Romana, the first incarnation of her that travelled with me. She was my friend from home. In this memory we were in the process of chasing something called the Key to Time when we ended up on a planet called Zanak instead of the one we originally intended. We overthrew an evil queen after the entire planet was pirated!”

“Sounds familiar…” Rose says half to herself, but the Doctor is too wrapped up in the action to notice.

The Doctor and Romana are seen with several humanoids with beige-gold skin and loose cloth draped around their heads, talking hurriedly.

Without warning, her Doctor turns quickly and leads her back out, walking further along the hallway, and he finds another memory. As they step through the door, Rose immediately stops breathing. 

It is his ninth self---her leather-clad Doctor--- talking to a young girl, about the age Rose was when she started travelling with him.

“That’s Ali. She’s telling me to go back and try again to get you to come with me.”

“What?….whatd’you mean, get me to come with you?”

“You turned me down the first time, Rose. Remember?

Tears automatically spring to Rose’s eyes, both within their telepathic link and in the real world.

“You…...you were gone  _ that long _ and you came back for me? You remembered me and you came back for me? After only knowing me for that short period of time? Doctor….I don’t even know what to say. I’m actually humbled.”

He looks at her like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and her asking it is completely outlandish.

“Well of course I did! It was  _ you _ , and I knew there was something special about you. I felt a connection to you. Like a magnet, Rose.”

She doesn’t know if this will even work, but she walks up and kisses him, and feels it both within their link and in the outside world. He tilts his head and brings his hands up to frame her face. 

The Doctor’s next words echo within her head.

_ “Since you apparently have an innate knack for this, let’s step into your mind now, shall we?” _

Rose’s head suddenly feels an intense pressure, like a balloon being pressed on by a finger. She winces, and is just about to pull away from his kiss when he speaks again.

_ “You have to consent to my presence, Rose. I can’t enter your mind without you letting me in.” _

The moment she opens her mind, she feels his warm presence rush in, and the pressure subsides completely. 

As she blinks and opens her eyes, the light inside is blinding, and it takes several moments for her eyes to adjust. When she is finally able to open her eyes, her breath is stolen away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and comments make me insanely happy.


	11. Picture You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, I know. It has been AWHILE. Things for me the last few months have been very hard. Some of you have been privy to my mini-existential crisis.  
And now, I feel as though I am on the other side of the mountain, and I feel free. Thanks for sticking with me. I love you all.
> 
> HAPPY PANDEMIC, I'M WRITING AGAIN!!
> 
> It goes without saying that I need to dedicate this chapter (and this whole damn work) to the incomparable Elialys- the one person who has singlehandedly been my biggest support, and has been my light in the darkness on MULTIPLE occasions. 
> 
> Your birthday fic was supposed to be something else entirely, but it wasn't important enough. I might add it in later. Happy (very belated) birthday.
> 
> I love you, Ambre. You are MORE than a blessing in my life. You're my twin, my soul sister, and my closest ally. Sometimes you know me better than I know myself-- I share a brain with you and part of my soul. And you've done it all from 4,000 miles away. You came into my life out of nowhere and you have shown me myself. And somehow I might find a way to repay you, although the stakes are incredibly high.
> 
> Playlist tracks:  
"Swimming Pool" ~Freezepop  
"Picture You" ~Mumford and Sons

And when I feel the darkness is a heartbeat away  
And I don't know how to fight it  
It's a heartbeat away  
And now  
You don't know me like this  
It's a heartbeat away  
And I don't know how to hide it  
It's a heartbeat away  
And I picture you-

  
Soaked in light  
I picture you  
And in you I had no doubt  
When the chaos calls me out  
And it feel it's like there is nothing I can do  
**_I picture you_**

______________________________________________________

The smell of flowers and of the sea reaches Rose’s nose long before her eyes are fully open. As the light floods past the edges of her eyelids, the first thing she sees is the silhouette of the Doctor, smiling warmly at her. And this time it is _ HE _ who is surrounded by the light of the sun behind him. 

Although she is well aware of the fact that she is within her own mind, she can’t quite approximate that she is capable of seeing it as a physical place. Had she been able to do this all along and never known until now?

The Doctor gently holds up his hand, palm facing her. Rose follows suit, and interlaces her fingers with his, palms touching. He wriggles his fingers and Rose marvels at the sensation of his fingers moving between hers, the swirls of the ridges and valleys of his fingerprints leaving trails of friction on her own. She notices immediately how heightened the sensation of his touch is here, within her mind. 

She notices then how she can feel his mind buzzing right along with hers, and that he finally feels understood- how he finally feels _ seen _ like he never has before. It is at once terrifying for him as it is humbling, having his soul completely bared for another.

_ This _ is his native language. This is his communication, his Rosetta Stone. 

Finally becoming aware of her surroundings, Rose realises that this is all intimately familiar. This is, of course, _ her _ mind, and she knows intrinsically where everything is and how to manoeuvre through it.

They are standing on a wooden walkway, which in one direction leads into a thick forest, and in the other stretches directly through rolling dunes of sand full of bristly dune grass, and nearly aflame in red poppies, white daisies, and purple lavender--- eventually leading to the sea. 

Whitecaps can be seen across its deep blue surface, and at its furthest edges, sandy dune bluffs jut up from the seafloor as the shoreline curves out dramatically into the distance. The bluffs shine with a golden lustre in the late evening light. 

Despite the evening glow, the blue sky gradually bleeds into blackness towards the centre, and galaxies swirl overhead into infinity, countless stars peeking through like white hot points. Rose notices how similar the sky in her mind is to the library ceiling within the Doctor’s, however the one differing element currently rising from the edge of the trees that cannot be missed is the full moon--- which is _ MASSIVE._

Easily four times larger than the real moon, this moon hangs like a lantern in the sky above the forest, lighting their path since it seems that the evening glow does not extend into the trees.

The Doctor is the one to break the silence, finally.

“Rose Tyler. Do you see how incredible you are? This is your mind. You created this- all of it!”

His voice begins taking on that manic lilt, as he gestures all around, “You’re brilliant! Look how gorgeous this is! Now you have to figure out where to go first, it is your mind after all.”  
  


His excitement is contagious as she returns his smile, and without hesitation, she points toward the wooden walkway that leads into the forest, “Well the most important part is through here. C’mon Doctor.” 

She pulls him along with her and begins to walk beneath the trees. The forest itself is filled with evergreens, ancient oaks, and massive redwoods as big around as houses. It has a musky scent of earth and pine, and there are swags of vines hanging thick, interconnecting all the trees like garland. The trees creak in the breeze, as though centuries of existence can be heard in the frequency of their bending.

All along the forest floor are strange, alien-looking plants that Rose is sure to have seen on any of the hundreds of worlds that they had visited. Some glow blue and purple with bioluminescence. 

Along with the trees, the smells and sounds give the impression that this forest has been here since the beginning of Time, as though Rose’s mind has existed for eons. The Doctor’s Time Sense is acute enough that he feels it--- even here. 

It’s an uneasy feeling, the fact that he notices the weight of the years, particularly since Rose Tyler herself has only existed for about a quarter of an Earth century. He swallows and squeezes her hand tighter, but she is too enthralled with their surroundings to notice.

Walking through the forest, the soil is sandy and littered with pine needles, branches, and huge mossy roots that the wooden walkway leads up and over, creating odd angles that cause the Doctor and Rose to nearly lose their footing at times.

They walk about half a mile in the dim light in silence before they reach a clearing in the middle that houses a garden of roses, whose odour had been detected long before the clearing had even been seen.

It’s just bright enough to notice that the roses are of course pink and yellow, their bushes flanking the outer perimeter of the garden, and woven over an archway at the garden’s entrance.

There are huge weeping willow trees scattered around, and stone paths wind through the entire space, with stone stairs leading up to a beautiful waterfall where a small stream empties into a pond full of lily pads, large, mossy rocks, and dozens of colourful koi fish. A stone bridge reaches between the weeping willows up over the water.

Rhododendrons are planted near some of the trees, along with blue and purple hydrangeas and white azaleas between the rose bushes.

The best effect are the fairy lights that don’t seem to need any wiring to glow. They are embedded within all of the trees and plants, all over the bridge, and even beneath the water, illuminating the pond a cool blue hue. 

Everything else is illuminated by the huge moon, which shines now with a pinkish blush. It seems to be much later in the evening in this part of the forest than anywhere else, as though different parts of Rose’s mind are different parts of the day.

There is an open stone structure similar to a pergola to the far side of the garden, with a large lounger in the middle. The lounger itself is covered in fairy lights and draped in linens. 

From the corner of her eye, Rose senses movement, and glances across to the top of the waterfall, and for a split second she thinks she sees a large golden wolf, but it is gone long before she can alert the Doctor to its presence.

His attention is elsewhere, and he is once again the first to speak, still smiling proudly, “Miss Tyler, I believe your memories are housed within the doors that are in the trees. See?”

Sure enough, each tree has a carved doorway in it, as though each were the home of elves or some other fairytale creature. Some are rather plain, taking the natural appearance of the bark, while others are ornately carved and detailed.

“Why don’t you try showing me a memory? Only one you’re comfortable with, of course.”

Rose knows immediately which one to show him, and she knows exactly which tree to choose. She walks over to one of the trees and pulls the door, and they step inside. 

Just like within the Doctor’s mind, they are _ living _ the memory rather than merely seeing an image, as though they are watching a play from closeup. This one is of their time together, and they are running hand in hand as an alien chases them, in an alleyway on a far off planet. Rose’s heart squeezes as she remembers that she came back to this very memory innumerable times in their years apart.

The Doctor is not surprised this time when Rose projects her feelings, as he sees just what this particular flashback means to her. This was mere days before they were separated. He himself visited his own version of this memory often.

She leads him out, then into another door to the interior of the TARDIS, and it’s the Doctor whose heart pangs this time. Rose projects how she felt in one particular instance when the TARDIS doors weren’t quite open yet- where they were just about to, and he knows that she is trying to tell him exactly how she _ felt _each time that happened. It was the rush of her excitement, and along with it, the force of her love when she’d look at him every time he opened those doors with a flourish.

Rose leads him out again and into another door, where she shows him how happy she was that time he came back for her, and then their first trip together, to when the earth got roasted. She had felt excited and scared and the Doctor is able to feel all of it from her in the minutes that they relive it. 

Rose is bursting with excitement now, and quickly begins going from one memory to another.

In the next, the cropped hair and leather jacket- clad version of him reappears, holding her hand in that basement and telling her he was so glad he met her. In that moment he remembers that he realised that he was in love with her, but he stubbornly denied it to himself. 

Story of his life, really. Never telling people how much they had meant to him- especially Rose. Fear of inevitable loss plaguing every friendship he had. They would leave him, eventually. Or they would die. Only Rose fought back against the inexorability, the gravity of his stubbornness. She had taken his resolve that he wasn’t worthy, lit it on fire, and watched it smoulder into nothing.

Rose brings him to his senses, dragging him out that door and into another. Then another.

Dancing together in the middle of the blitz. Incessant flirting. The day they had their first row when he took her to see her father--- and he came back and couldn’t leave her. _ WOULDN’T _ leave her. 

The day the Dalek proclaimed that the Doctor loved her, how her heart had nearly expanded out of her chest. The moment he was about to kill that Dalek, how she judged him for it and pitied him. She hadn’t realised the extent of the terror she’d seen behind his eyes that day.

She shows him her conflict when he regenerated, how she ached for his former self and believed him gone forever. Then- their first trip together in this form. She had felt herself falling for him all over again.

That night she knew he almost said it-- he almost confessed when she confronted him about leaving Sarah Jane behind. 

She shows him when they found that fireplace, how he hurt her. How he needed to know that he hurt her. 

“Oh, Rose. I am so sorry. I was so stupid. I put her in the middle unintentionally, to put space between us. While I did care for Reinette, she held NOTHING to you. I agreed to bring Mickey along for the same reason. And I couldn’t let her die. I knew I would find a way back to you. It was stupid and selfish.”

Rose squeezes his hand, smiling at him. Complete forgiveness floods their connection, and he feels as though he can hardly breathe looking at her. 

Moving to the next door, they are on Krop Tor. He sees her point of view- how she refused to give up on him. This is Rose, though. Never giving up on him. Ever. Fighting within an inch of her life to give them a chance. He watches delightedly as he sees her try to pull a gun on the captain and demand to go back. 

In the next door he sees how she was _ DESPERATE _ to save him during the 2012 olympics, and just like it did that day, his entire body lights up when he sees them reunited. 

His synapses automatically fill with dopamine, as though her acknowledgement of his existence could make his soul illuminate.

It is quickly destroyed in the next several doors- after the walls of reality closed. She shows him her desperation, her determination. She never gave up, even though he had- as if she _ could._

He sees everything she had done in their time apart. Rose coming apart. The therapy sessions, Rose hunched over on the floor of her bedroom, similar to what had happened to him the previous night. Panting, tears. Her head in her mother’s lap as Jackie told her to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth- as though she herself was speaking from experience. 

Then he sees her walking into the Torchwood headquarters, determination on her face. The long nights with Mickey and Jake, and other scientists, working on the Dimension Cannon. The failed attempts and the entire cannon catching on fire and breaking apart. Starting over from scratch. 

Rose tearing apart her office in anger, breaking anything and everything. Picking up a framed picture of himself and throwing it against the wall.

“He didn’t try!!! That bastard gave me up! First he couldn’t own up to how he felt, then he gave up!”

Jackie is trying to calm her, “He did it BECAUSE he loves you, Rose. Don’t you see it?”

He sees all the dimension jumps, when they finally started to work. Rose meeting her parents in the other universes. The snowstorm. Meeting Rob Tyler. Fancying him for the briefest moment, then realising he was the parallel (male) version of herself.

He sees how she ran herself ragged searching for him. Sleeping on the sofa in her office. The colour leaving her face, and her clothes becoming more baggy.

Then he witnesses the changeover from Torchwood to UNIT, and the powers changing.

That horrible day she found him dead in that pocket universe. Her stroking his hair and confessing the depth of her love to him- as if he couldn’t tell. How she said she had always loved him, even before they met because their connection stretched across Time. Then, miraculously, Pete called and brought her home, saying it was the wrong universe. He sees how she needed to return to therapy after that, after the panic attacks returned. Because somewhere out there, the Doctor was still dead.

Then an ominous feeling nearly knocks the Doctor off his feet. Inside his head, in their connection, he sees the golden wolf and feels her power that is still there, waiting. He feels the strength of her love. The current of her love that drove her to find him-- where he’d failed. The power that she possessed to destroy the Daleks-- still intact.

He sees the golden eyes open once again. He feels her power dormant, but Bad Wolf is still within her. He doesn’t tell her _ how _ he can feel it- he doesn’t leave time for that.

He kisses her, drawing her in, sliding his hands into her hair just as he always does, and the way in which she now craves---as though the pull of his fingers against her scalp brings him closer to being one with her very existence. 

His mouth opens automatically, his tongue exploring her mouth, and one of her hands knot into his hair. Her other hand frames his cheek, her thumb stroking his sideburn, which makes him let out a groan. The sound goes directly to Rose’s lower belly, starting out as an ember and fanning out but quickly into a throb. Her own tongue strokes against his, and she feels him reaching out from within their bond. Their two souls meld together, held tight by an inseverable link like twisting tree roots, wrapping almost as tightly around each other as their arms.

He presses his body against hers, and she shivers a little with anticipation that has nothing to do with cold. She pulls back a little, drawing his hands in front of her and holding them fast together against her ribcage, over her heart, and looking up at his face. He brings her back in as he presses his forehead to hers, panting.

“Rose... can you make yourself stand in the real world without breaking contact here?"  
  


Rose nods, willing her body onboard the zeppelin to move, concentrating hard. When she reopens her eyes within her mind, they are standing next to the lounger within the garden. Their positioning mirrors that of the real world.

She knows exactly where this is headed, and considering how all of the sensations in here have been greatly heightened, she isn’t complaining a bit.

Rose shivers again as she pulls back, looking into his eyes, and she opens his hands against her, moving them to her breasts, and pressing them into her flesh. She grips the backs of his hands to encourage him, concentrating on the sensations in the real world and here. His mouth descends onto her neck as he strokes her, drawing her skin between his lips just enough to leave marks down her throat, with his breath warming it at contact.

She brings her hand down and places it where he needs to be touched the most, feeling him rigid through his clothes. He groans loudly and bucks his hips forward into her touch.

He responds in kind with his caress that makes her weak, and she arches her back into it, pushing herself into his hands as they touch her, and the heat between her legs is nearly too much to take. She had been right about the sensations, in here. They keep eye contact as they press their foreheads together.

His left hand then comes behind her, to the small of her back as he presses her to him, and his right thumb traces her bottom lip, brushes past her ear, coming down to curve around her neck and face, as his mouth connects with hers again like a magnet. 

His tongue claims hers, and he kisses her slowly, deeply, drinking in her essence like he’s been lost. His right hand comes up under her shirt and returns to her breast, kneading her flesh through her bra, and he presses himself up against her as she backs up against the lounger. 

Then he does something she does not expect. His mouth releases hers, and he turns her around in a flash, and his arms come around her from behind, his mouth connecting with her neck and sucking her warm flesh, and running the tip of his tongue up behind her ear. 

His hands lift her shirt up and over her head, and he immediately starts working on her bra, which he is quite good at now. Having all of this occurring both in real life and within Rose’s mind kind of baffles her, the foreign concept of the synchronicity having no real time to register in her head.

He drops the garment to the floor, and his hands come up and cover her breasts, and she places her hands on his as he touches her, pressing his hands into her. She lets out an audible groan as his fingertips trace her taut nipples.

He pulls away temporarily to remove his clothes, and she follows suit, ridding herself of her jeans and knickers. Both begin to realise that this won’t last long.

He indicates for her to kneel in the middle of the lounger, and he comes up behind her, his hardness pressing up against her bum from behind. He puts his arms around her, bringing one hand back to her breast, as the other plunges immediately down into her warmth and she lets out a sigh as his fingers connect with her flesh. She widens her legs, sinking further down onto her knees and she leans back against him.

He starts making tight circles and she widens her kneel even more, letting him support all of her weight from behind. She looks down and watches him touch her, as his fingers slide through her slick warmth already coating his digits.

Her hips start to orbit, and he can’t take it any longer, bending her forward, so she can feel the hardness of him_ there _. She holds herself up on the bed with her hands, and with one swift motion, he sheaths himself within her, burying himself inside as far as he can-- which is deeper than she has ever felt him. She cries out as she feels him pushing against her womb. 

She tightens her inner walls, squeezing him, silently indicating to him that she is ok, and to _ please _ start moving.

He acquiesces, and he pulls her body up into a kneeling position against him once again. He’s panting now, every time he pulls out and pushes back in again, it is almost too much. His breath on her skin causes it to break out in goose flesh, which he immediately coaxes on by ghosting his hands up her arms.

Then he does something else that shocks her. He takes them OUT of her mind, and into the TARDIS. Her hand is suddenly on the console with him standing behind her, as his hips move faster. 

Back in his TARDIS, taking Rose against the console like he’d fantasised about innumerable times, he knows he isn’t going to last long. He is getting close, so he pulls her body to him more firmly, returning one hand to her breast as he thrusts harder. His other hand plunges back down into her folds, and she cries out as his long digits begin circling, and her body becomes rigid.

The pleasure begins building within her womb as he stretches her wide, the flames coaxed even further by his fingers sliding in her wetness, the notable ridges of his fingerprints finding her _ there _.

For the Doctor, the sensation of feeling himself with his fingers pushing into her repeatedly, touching the place where they are joined--- coupled with the sensation of feeling her from deep within, he can’t take it anymore.

Through their mental connection, they meld further together. Rose reaches her hand up, placing one hand behind the back of his neck, gripping, pulling her back yet more firmly against his chest. Her other hand she places on his, guiding his fingers, as she begins to buck her hips back against him

He redoubles his efforts, gripping the soft skin of her breast with one hand, and making firmer circles with his fingers of the other, and soon Rose is crying out. With this positioning, he can FEEL the flutter of her release.

A few last strokes and he tumbles along with her, his own orgasm brought forth as the heat leaves his body, much quicker this time than ever before, but hard enough that it curls his toes.

Moments, eons may have passed, but they withdraw from each other’s minds with long, drawn out kisses, waking slowly on the bed within the zeppelin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, your comments and feedback keep me writing ❤️


	12. There Will Be Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
"There Will Be Time"~ Mumford and Sons, Baaba Maal  
"Oceans" ~ Seafret
> 
> A short, very smutty chapter before many chapters of adventure. Not sure when you will see this again, so enjoy! As always, thank you for reading, and thank you for your comments and encouragement. 
> 
> xoxo

"There Will Be Time" ~Mumford and Sons, Baaba Maal

In the cold light, I live to love and adore you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have  
In the cold light, I live, I only live for you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have

So open up my eyes to a new light  
I wandered 'round your darkened land all night  
But I lift up my eyes to a new high  
And indeed there would be time

But in the cold light, I live to love and adore you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have  
And in the cold light I live, I only live for you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have

And in the cold light, I live to love and adore you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have  
In the cold light, I live to love and adore you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have

Why do I keep falling?  
Why do I keep falling?

A time to love  
A time to sing, a time to shine  
A time to leave, a time to stay  
There is a time, a time to cry  
A time to love, a time to live

And in the cold light, I live to love and adore you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have  
In the cold light, I live, I only live for you  
It's all that I am, it's all that I have

Why do I keep falling?  
Why do I keep falling?

_____________________________________

  
There is something to be said for the neck. Just a plain, smooth span of skin, between the head and torso. But the sheer amount of nerve endings in the neck, coupled with the level of intimacy it takes to trust a person to grant contact with this part of the body creates the perfect storm. Combine that with the veneration it takes to _ want _ to kiss another person’s neck speaks for the level of desire one feels for someone. It’s not kissing. It’s not sexual contact. It’s _ premeditated _ on the part of one partner, and it’s _ complete vulnerability _ on the part of the other. 

What it does to a person- it's the act of bringing someone from normal activity to the throbbing need for contact, for reconnection within mere seconds says much indeed about this under-appreciated, often ignored part of the body.

And it doesn’t just initiate the need for contact, but the need to give and receive pleasure--- the ultimate way to express love, to reiterate commitment, and to reestablish the bond between two lovers, at a soul level. It’s white knuckles, grasping, twisting in sheets. It’s complete openness. It’s silence except for the sound of breath and occasional words of love and encouragement. And when the pleasure of one’s partner becomes much more important than his or her own, this is truth. This is devotion. _ This is need. _

The Doctor’s _ need _ for her just worsens, he finds. After denying oneself everything you’ve ever wanted, and then finally being able to give in to it, the exigence to express this _ drive _ multiplies--- by the minute it seems. 

Here within the dimly-lit zeppelin, in the minuscule hours of the morning when no one is awake but the Doctor, he of course reasons with himself using concepts he understands best.

In physics, the pull of magnetism between two objects can act at a distance--- a few inches away, a foot away, a mile away, from opposite poles of the Earth, a galaxy away, and even a dimension away. Like Yin and Yang, one cannot exist without the other. Each half exists holding a piece of the other, right at the heart. When separated, according to Plato’s _ Symposium _ , two souls will spend _ lifetimes _ seeking one another. A ship to its beacon. The Darkness to the Light. An albatross to its mate. There is a certain inevitability in it--- that they should come together, in time. A dam will break, eventually.

Some things need a little encouragement, though, and the Doctor’s short human life is weighing on him once more. His impulsivity wins again, he decides. When it comes to Rose Tyler, he finds that this is nearly always the case, now. 

_________________________________________

Along the subliminal knife edge between dreaming and being fully awake--- that space where the blackness slowly dissipates from charcoal, to purple, to red, to pink, and eventually full colour--- Rose rouses slowly at the sensation of her hair being swept from her neck. His fingers brush her scalp, combing through her blond tresses, as he scoots over on the bed, closing that space between them. Completing the circle, the inevitability of magnetism. 

His lips brush the soft hairs on the back of her neck, as he places tender kisses across her skin, one chasing the next, each becoming longer in its duration, and more and more open-mouthed as they continue. His breath causes goose flesh to appear all across her body, which he calms with his patient hands anywhere he can feel the bumps rising.

Rose feels his presence within her mind, and he asks entrance, the warmth of his soul enveloping hers without delay when she acquiesces. There is no time to get to the physical mind level of their bond, not in this moment. He is too wrapped up in her and her light.

His arms come to wrap around her from behind, and his lips begin to follow the curve of her neck and shoulder to where he is pulling her skin gently into his mouth, leaving light marks each place he savours, eventually coming to the side and up to her jawline. 

Rose turns her head and captures his lips, languid and breathless immediately in intensity. Open-mouthed, his lips and tongue claim dominance. He has to remind himself to breathe in these moments, as though his thudding heart would be capable of handling the lack of respiratory bypass in any capacity. 

There is a point in all this where affection gives in to _ need _, which seems to happen more and more quickly between the two of them, nowadays. His intentions are felt immediately by the desperation in his kisses, in the potency of his desire felt within their bond, and by his growing physical need--- evident against her backside.

He sweeps away the sheet that is draped over her, now simply a barrier--- a barricade keeping him from what he wants. His hand comes up, covering her bare breast, and she lets out a soft moan at his touch. He cups her as her breathing quickens and her eyes squeeze shut. 

His hand then slides down over her hip, along the top of her thigh, and he pulls her leg up so that her knee is pointing to the ceiling. Starting at her knee, he moves his fingertips along the inside of her thigh, slowly, but then stops before he can reach where she wants him. 

His hand then moves to her belly, below her navel, tracing the soft skin there with a whisper-light touch, moving downward with each revolution. His fingers finally seek her flesh, and her eyes flutter closed again at contact as her hips rock forward into his touch.

Rose herself is quite surprised she has a voice at this hour, as she lets out sounds that she had been unaware she was capable of making. 

She wastes no time and immediately rolls herself onto her back. His fingers make lazy circles within her folds, and finally he sinks a finger inside, and he begins peppering kisses across her shoulder blades, eventually coming down to settle between her breasts. 

He runs the tip of his tongue between them, then pays attention to each one in turn. Pulling her nipple between his lips, stroking with his tongue, as his hand continues its work between her legs, pulling back out again and working her in circles. He stops before she loses herself.

He descends once again, soft kisses covering her stomach, his lips nuzzling, letting the warm puffs of his breath heat her skin in his trek downward.

The scent of her arousal reaches his nose, and for the life of him he can’t ever recall the triggering of a sense that has nearly caused him to come apart like this.

Below her navel, he stops to pay special attention to the skin that leads down to the top of her soft, dark hairs, right above where she wants his mouth most. There, he spends even more time, kissing, leaving trails with his tongue, and letting her steep in the anticipation. It’s definitely working.

He is laying half on top of her legs, so he props himself up so that he can take each one, pushing them apart so that he can lay in between. 

His mouth then moves over to the side, and he runs his tongue along the sliver of skin where her legs meet her torso, in the crevice between her heat and her leg, each side in turn.

Rose is panting now, unsure she can stand any more of this torture, but then he brushes his lips over her soft hairs, back and forth, taking in that heady scent before _ finally _ reaching out his tongue and touching her.

Understandably, Rose cries out in relief.

He takes her legs, spreading them even further apart, and if his adoration could be felt anywhere, it would be written in the soft touch of his lips and tongue, sliding across her slick skin. Gentle, at first, the tip of his tongue makes slow rotations, becoming bolder as her voice becomes louder. 

He lets her know through their bond how incredible this is for him--- how desperate he is to make her feel good, and how much he wants her. Rose can return no such coherent thought, however.

Rose grabs fistfuls of sheets in her hands, as though she is floating and might fall off, as his tongue curls on each agonisingly slow upward motion, as his breath comes out in puffs that cause her skin to pucker again.

He glances up, noticing the effect on her nipples, so he brings his hands up to cover her breasts, kneading as his tongue works her again. 

His lips fully encircle her, finally, drawing her flesh into his mouth. Rose plants her feet, and subconsciously lifts her hips, grinding them against the motion of his mouth. She looks down, making eye contact with him. 

The look of love in his eyes, coupled with the intensity of their connection convey everything she needs to know, as he brings his right hand down, and sinks two fingers within her, setting up a rhythm right away.

Rose grinds her hips harder, but this time sinks her hands into his hair, which is soft from their shared shower the previous night. She scratches his scalp with her nails, and begins crying out. She is sure that the intensity of this climax, slow in its approach, will definitely not be lackluster in its intensity.

Her hands in his hair become fists, as his two fingers stroke in and out of her, his lips and tongue still working her.

Rose’s eyes squeeze shut, and her head throws back against her pillow, grasping at it with her hands, which have left his head and now frame her face.

He looks up at her pale body, contorting in contrast against the dim light of the not-yet risen sun. If she replaced the sun and began to glow in that moment, he would not be in the least bit surprised. 

Images overflow in their connection. Possible _ future _ images. A life lived as one- where he would do anything to make it happen. A home, somewhere peaceful. Pets. A child, maybe two if they are very lucky. A large workshop where he can build their TARDIS. A quiet life in between adventures. A large library in their house, a bathroom with a huge soaking tub. 

Post-it notes written in Gallifreyan covering multiple surfaces in their home- all of them written in different ways to say “I love you.” Some are written in Rose’s style- her attempting to learn his native tongue so that eventually they would be given a few words of a second language to communicate their love in- as though a telepathic bond is not enough.

He can’t complete the images he’s giving her because all at once, her climax approaches thanks to his lips and tongue, still working her, and his fingers, still pumping in and out.

Rose cries out, and he feels the muscles within her contract as she comes apart, him continuing to draw out the last tremors, but as soon as her body goes limp, he climbs on top of her, finds her entrance, and pushes inside, quickly setting up a rhythm.

She kisses him, tasting herself on his mouth, and she wraps her legs around him as he draws himself all the way out, then back in again. So soon after her first climax, she is well within the time that she is chasing a second one, which he feels her convey within their connection.

She presses her forehead against his, and brings her legs up high across his back.

The sheen of sweat beads across his back and shoulders, and she begins sucking the skin on his neck, and he pushes into her deeper, and begins grinding his pelvic bone against hers, giving her the friction she needs- she begins writhing again within moments. He breathes her name, over and over, whispering along with it words of love and reassurance. That he will never leave her. 

Into his ear, she cries out again, spasming around him just as his own tension releases and he’s involuntarily rocking forward into her, riding out the waves of their shared bliss.

Euphoria overtakes each of them, as they go limp, still joined, gasping for breath. The Doctor reaches up to his face to find fresh tears that he had been unaware of. 

He wonders once again if it will always be like this--- like coming home. Like being lost and found again. Rose, intuitive to his feelings even before the telepathic bond, assures him that yes, it will be.

He kisses her, breathless, and is drawn once more to the realization that life--- _ THEIR _ life--- is a gift of immeasurable value. She smiles up at him, then draws him in, and he places his head on her chest, right above her single, human heartbeat. The one to match his.

  
Floating back to sleep, even for a little while as the zeppelin makes its arrival in Paris, they each enjoy the shared peace before what they know will be another adventure only _ they _ could share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support. Comments are my dopamine, so if you have never left me one, please do. You have no idea what it means to me. And to my regular commentators, I love you, thank you for all you do for me.


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